


what i am (aches in me)

by cigarettestainedeyes



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bottom Billy Hargrove, Bottom Steve Harrington, Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, M/M, Marijuana, Orgasm Delay, Pining, Rimming, Slow Burn, Smoking Kink, Tutoring, Violence, a year in the life, dates that arent dates, feelings are hard, friends who kiss sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-06-06 15:17:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 55,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15197564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettestainedeyes/pseuds/cigarettestainedeyes
Summary: A year in the life of two very confused, very fucked-up boys.Who may or may not be in love.





	1. JULY

 

 

> _You told me this is right where it begins_

_But your lips hang heavy_

_Underneath me_

* * *

 

Summer comes and it's an angry one. The heat is a violent, overbearing haze. You can taste the air with every breath, big unnerving gasps because it might be your last, like the humidity would crush your lungs and that'd be it. Dead.

Billy hates it.

He wants California summers back. Where it's hot and you sweat but you can still _do_ things. Rollerblade and surf and walk along the pier. Check out dudes.

Hawkins _sucks._

Yet one more reason to hate this chickenshit town. The list is growing fast.

He's in nothing but swim trunks, nursing his third can of beer and it's already starting to warm in his hand. Fucking depressing. The air conditioning's on but the house is so old that it's weak as hell, so Billy has two fans blowing at him where he's seated on the couch. The fabric of the couch is hot and sweaty where he sits and there’s a hole on the edge of the armrest that he’s been picking at for the better part of an hour. One of his feet is laid up on the coffee table and the ashtray next to it is nearly full. His other hand is down his shorts, not fully committed to jerking off but teasing a little. He could get there if he wanted. And he usually wants.

Billy lives for Saturdays. His dad works all day and he gets the house mostly to himself. Max usually has friends to hang out with and Susan's always busy with something or other.

Billy could hang out with people too, but he doesn't want to. Doesn't need to. It doesn't do anything for him to be around people when he's bored. Feels more like a job. He bullshits and postures enough at school. He'll leave Saturdays for himself.

The phone rings and he hears a door in the hall open. He slides his hand out of his shorts just as Max bounds past the living room entryway to where the phone is hooked up onto the wall. His eyes widen a fraction. He didn't know anyone had been home and silently thanked himself for not popping in that porno tape that was hiding in his room.

"Hello?...Yeah?...Yeah!...Yeah, let me call my step-dad...Okay...okay, sweet!"

He's about to inquire about the call, but quickly decides he doesn't care. He mindlessly watches the game show that’s on the television. He’s rooting for the blond guy with floppy hair. Just because he’s cute.

"Hi dad!"

 _Wow_. _Dad._  She must really want something. Billy could count on one hand the times Max had called Neil 'dad'.

"My friends are having a pool party, can I go?...Mom's at the church fundraiser...Billy's here... it's at Steve Harrington's house..."

Billy perks at the name. Harrington.

They'd been mostly avoiding each other since that night at the Byers house.

It was working out pretty well for Billy.

Steve was a distraction he didn’t need. He knew it the first time they made eye contact at Tina’s Halloween party. Billy felt the twisting in his stomach, how his hands got hot. He knew he needed to avoid the kid. He couldn’t afford to fuck around. Not when he was so close to graduation, to getting the hell away. He could hole himself up in his room for one more year, ignore Harrington and all the possibilities he held in those dark, cryptic eyes.

Eyes that were soft and open when he was around the shithead group of kids he was somehow designated to watch over.

Guarded around Nancy and her new boyfriend, Creepy McEyebrows.

Jaded and cold when he bothered to look at Billy.

Wide and innocent when teachers asked him about assignments in the hall, ones he _still_ hadn’t turned in despite getting an extension. Billy watched the rings under his eyes get darker and more prominent. So. He wasn’t sleeping. Billy pondered about nightmares. Wondered what Steve possibly had to be scared of.

It's summer break but the impending seniors of Hawkins are littering the halls of the high school in preparation for their last year, activities still in full-swing like baseball and basketball, the theater club is organizing their show list for the following year -- Billy hears heavy debates over _Phantom of the Opera_ and  _Beauty and the Beast --_  student council's taken over the cafeteria and has blueprints for the yearbook, options A through W strewn about on several tables. It's a _mess_. Billy's an A-student. He's just there to do summer classes ahead of time. It'll work out for him, he'll graduate in  _March._ Nothing had ever motivated him more than his dad to graduate high school. If it weren't for the constant threat of abuse, Billy probably would've dropped out  _ages_ ago.

Steve's there because he's got summer classes from the year prior that he  _flunked._ Billy doesn't know all the details, just heard bits and pieces from the students in the halls, but it appeared that the King had seriously fucked up his senior year and was going to have to repeat it.

As much as he tried to avoid him, Harrington was fucking everywhere. He couldn’t get away from him.

And let's get this straight, Billy isn’t _scared_ of Steve, not by a long shot. He just doesn't _like_ him. But Max had been serious about Billy leaving them all alone, and there was that bat with the nails in it and, well, Billy liked his dick right where it was thank you very much.

So he stopped ragging on them, Max in particular. If she wanted to face Neil's wrath for hanging around Lucas, that was on her. Billy didn't have a problem with Lucas, had just been trying to save her a lecture and himself an asswhooping for not telling her, but he'd done his job and told her. She was on her own now, making her own choices.

As far as Steve was concerned, they passed each other in the hall with no eye contact, although Billy did look at him a few times, watched as the weeks went by and Steve's face went from heartbreakingly broken to beautifully bruised to nearly perfect again.

During basketball Billy would huff at Steve's shitty passes, maybe drop a one-worded jeer here and there but that was it. No contact otherwise.

Billy zoned back in on Max and her conversation.

"Dad pleeeease?" Max begged. She’s chipper, hopeful, has the tone of a kid from those _Puppy Pound_ commercials. _Daaad, can we just adopt_ ** _one_** _more?_  "No really, it'll be _fine_." Her tone was growing somber. "Okay. Fine." Short. Angry.

Her head poked around the corner, eyes apologetic, shoulders hunched. "Um. Billy. Neil wants to talk to you."

He grimaced, let out a grunt, standing slowly and walking to the phone even slower. He took the phone from her and held it against his ear.

"Yeah?"

"Your sister wants to go to some pool thing at some kids house."

"...super." Billy deadpans.

"You're going with her."

 _The fuck I am_. "May I ask why?"

"Yeah, you can. Two reasons. First, one kid can't watch a group that big. And two. Because I fucking said so."

 _Steve Harrington's house_.

 _Dad look, I really can't. I beat this kids face in and we're doing this thing where we completely avoid each other_. "Got it." Billy said, hanging up a little too hard.

Max was looking at him apprehensively, probably expecting him to start laying into her.

He let out a sigh and brought his beer up to his mouth, drinking and drinking until it was gone. He crushed the can in his hand.

"Get ready." He said gruffly.

Fuck it. He was wearing swim trunks anyways.

 

_And I promised myself I wouldn’t let you complete me_

_I’m trying not to let it show, that I don’t want to let this go_

_Is there somewhere you can meet me?_

* * *

 

Max guides him in a small voice. _Straight till the stop sign. Hang a left. Keep going for a bit._

Billy went the speed limit for once, in no rush to begin this hellish episode. The radio was playing quietly, windows down since Billy's air conditioning was acting up. The air rushing past was no relief. It was just too fucking hot.

He doesn’t speak until she says his name.

"Billy?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry he's making you do this. I didn't think he would."

"Uh huh."

"I'm really sorry."

"Mmm."

"Billy?"

"What?" A little sharper this time, fingers lifting from the wheel as if to say _just tell me what you want._

"Thank you."

That makes him pause for a moment. "Yeah."

"It's the next house on the left."

 _Jesus._ It was huge. Ritzy.

Max was bouncing her leg, eager to get out. Billy pulled into the driveway and cut the engine.

She shot out of the car, tearing behind the house.

Billy sighed again and begrudgingly followed, toting a towel, his cigarettes, and a motorcycle magazine, wearing only his swim trunks and the necklace he never took off.

The grass was lush, definitely grown chemically. The siding on the house was pristine, not like his place that suffered hail damage over the winter, resulting in holes everywhere, a perfect place for bees to fly in and make their homes, slip even further in and end up in the house. And Neil had the audacity to bitch about it when he was the one that should’ve been taking care of the siding. Billy rounded to the back, followed the gate that stood well over his head and saw a wooden door swung open, could hear people splashing and kids shouting.

As he got closer the shouting stopped and he could hear Max.

"I'm sorry, my step-dad made him come. I'm so so sorry."

Billy walked through the gate. Heads whipped around.

The usual crew of brats stared at him in shock. The weird, quiet girl sat on a lounge chair, fists resting on her face, elbows on the inside of her crossed legs. She looked at Billy. Calculating. Steve wasn't in the water. He was a few feet away starting up a grill. He looked at Billy as if he was already asking him a question, head down but eyes up and peering over the edge of his sunglasses. He was in shorts and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, revealing the light lines of his toned body, his navel, a peek of his nipples. Billy tore his eyes away.

Max jumped into the pool, breaking the silence. Billy walked pointedly to one of the lounge chairs, the one farthest from everyone, laid out his towel and sat down, opening his magazine and pretending to read. His cheeks burned. He hated being there, hated being anywhere he obviously wasn’t welcome.

The kids were shouting again, all grappling for the same foam football. Billy didn’t move his head but flicked his eyes up now and again, watching. Remaining stone-still.

He hated to admit it but he was glad Max didn't let the guys push her around or treat her like a girl. She shoved them hard and grabbed their heads, pushing them under the water until they got equally as rough with her. It made Billy want to crack a smile. He didn’t though.

"You're Billy."

He looked over and found himself staring at the weird girl, she had moved chairs and was sitting next to him. She was in a white shirt a few sizes too big for her, awful yellow shorts and flip flops. She had a mop of curly brown hair. He wondered why she wasn’t in the pool. Her eyes were wide and interested, but something about the look on her face made it seem like she was older, eons beyond the thirteen-year-old body she inhabited.

"Yeah." He said, focusing back on the magazine. Trying to make it obvious that he didn’t want to talk.

"You hurt Steve."

 _Wow._ "Um. Yeah. I guess." His face warmed again.

"Why?"

 _Jesus Christ._ He shrugged, slapped the magazine shut. "I don't know. Adults do stupid things."

"You're not an adult." She said matter-of-factly.

He squinted at her. "Fine. Older kids. They do stupid things sometimes. Look, I'm trying to read."

"You're not reading." She said but got up anyway and moved back to her previous chair.

God. He did not want to be here.

The pool was inviting, cool water splashing up onto the concrete, but Billy stayed back. They wouldn't want him in there. He tried again to busy himself with his magazine.

"So do you want a drink?"

Billy started a little and looked up at Steve who was suddenly in front of him, standing there with his stupid ray-bans and two beers.

Billy thinks about turning him down. But he was weak when it came to beer.

"Uh. Sure."

Steve handed him one. Their fingers didn't touch. He twisted the cap off and took a long sip.

Steve sat down. _Next to him._

"So I've been thinking." Steve began, leaving his beer unopened as he set it on the ground between them.

"Probably not a good thing." Billy said, heart picking up, not ready for whatever was about to happen. He set aside his magazine. _Be nice. Just be nice. Get him to go away. Only one more year._

Steve gave him a snippy look but barreled on. "I spend a lot of time with these kids. And Max is one of them."

They both glanced at the group. They were all attempting handstands. Failing at it.

"We're probably going to see each other regularly."

 _Not if I can help it._ "Look man, I didn't want to come, my fucking dad--"

Steve cut him off. "I think we should be friends."

Billy looked at Steve with unmasked shock. He let that marinate for a moment, took another sip of his beer, contemplating. Of all the things he’d been expecting that definitely hadn’t been one of them.

"Friends." He repeated, tasting the word, hissing the 's'.

"Friendly." Steve continued, backing down just as quickly as he had began. "Civil. Ya know. For them."

Billy sighed. He wanted to say no.

But. If they didn’t have any bad blood between them, Billy wouldn’t have to think about him as much. Staying away would be easier. He wouldn’t have to make a point to sneer at him at school or glare at him in the parking lot at the arcade. Could just look through him like he didn’t even matter to Billy. _And he didn’t._

"Fine. Civil." He repeated, albeit mockingly.

Steve nodded, ignoring Billy’s tone. "I'm making burgers. You hungry?"

"Sure." Billy said. Noncommittal. This whole day was already one of the weirdest in Hawkins yet. Might as well get a burger out of it.

He was being obliging but didn’t necessarily have any intention to follow-through. The plan remained the same: avoid Steve Harrington at all costs. If he had to be around him every once in awhile, he’d bring his walkman, his magazines, maybe a little weed. Anything to distract. Anything to pass the time.

Steve stood up and waited a moment. Billy wondered if he was expected to follow.

"Uh. Do you want my help?" He asked. _Please say no._

"Nah, just watch the kids while I run inside."

Billy nodded, relaxed his shoulders as Steve walked away, leaving his beer by Billy, who wonders if he left it there intentionally. Max had been watching their exchange carefully, only her eyes and nose above the water. Her glance was questioning. Billy tried to appear aloof. She swam away, rejoining the group.

The heat beat down, unforgiving, the sun spotlighting him. _Hey you, yeah you. I see you down there. This one’s for you._  He stuck his middle finger up at it and let out a sigh.

“Fine, fine.” He wilted.

Billy finally caved. He got up slowly and walked over to the edge of the pool, jumping in.

The kids shrieked and laughed.

"Alright shitheads, let's do laps!" He shouted once he came up from under the water, an excuse to be in the pool that they wouldn’t be anxious about. He tossed his head back, shaking the hair away from his eyes.

They all scrambled to line up at one end.

Lucas was watching him reproachfully. Billy nodded at him.

"We're good, kid. I'm. I'm sorry." It was awkward, the kid deserved more of an apology. Billy had never been very good at them though.

Lucas still looked nervous but nodded at Billy and joined the group.

"Alright, winner gets ice cream!" He shouted.

He counted them down and let them race, enjoying the water on the sidelines. He remembered being a kid and being full of energy, excited about the future. How quickly that could go away, _did_ for him. He felt a pang of remorse but didn’t show it.

Steve came back out with a plate of uncooked burgers and a bag of buns, balancing a pack of paper plates a little precariously, fingers hooked in a plastic ring of _Coke._ Billy tsked with his teeth and silently cursed the idiot. Always so fucking _in need_ of other people’s help.

He climbed out of the pool and jogged over to him, threw a hand out to offer assistance. Steve stumbled a little upon seeing Billy.

"Here." He said curtly, relieving Steve of the soda and the plates.

"Thanks." Steve blinked at him, clearly surprised. He was looking at him with this unreadable expression, like he was mentally battling something.

"Uh huh." Billy looked away, didn't meet his eyes but could tell they were soft, like the ones he looked at the kids with. The change in attitude set Billy on edge, made him want to run away and hide. He felt exposed, like he was being watched for any signs of relapse. He almost wanted to punch Harrington again to get that old look back; angry, bitter, afraid.

He mostly wanted this to be over already.

"Hey! Billy! Who won!?" The kids were shouting from the pool.

"Uhhh," he looked over to them, "You all did. Ice cream for everyone!"

They all groaned and rolled their eyes.

"Oh okay, how about just ice cream for me and Harrington?" Billy looked over at the boy who cracked a smile but remained busy with getting the burgers on the grill.

"Booo!" The kids taunted before they started a splash fight.

Billy got closer to Steve. “Please tell me you have ice cream.” He muttered.

“Um, maybe some mint chocolate chip?” Steve said with a shrug.

“Yikes, they’re going to kill me.”

“I think you’ll live.” Steve said, flipping the burgers.

The smell made Billy’s stomach rumble. He walked away from Steve, going back to his chair to grab his pack of smokes. His skin was tight from the chlorine, eyes burning a bit. He wished he’d remembered to bring his tanning oil.

“Can I have one?” Steve shouted over to him.

 _Goddammit._ Billy slowly rejoined him, eyebrows raised as he held out his pack silently. Steve took one as well as the lighter Billy held out.

They smoked, both quiet and it was awkward. Billy hated awkward silences, wished they could talk about anything, bullshit like he did with the people at school.

But he didn’t feel like he could do that with Steve. And it infuriated him.

“You can go sit down if you want, I got this.” Steve said, breaking Billy out of his thoughts.

Billy didn’t reply, just walked off, grateful for the chance to escape.

He watched the kids until Harrington was done with the food. They all piled from the pool to the outdoor table. There weren’t enough chairs so Steve and Billy ate on the loungers, hamburgers and chips. Steve even had a tub of store-bought potato salad.

“So why are you so quick to forgive me?” Billy couldn’t help but asked after he chased down his mouthful with a drink from his second beer.

Technically fifth of the day. He feels loose.

Steve picked at his burger, half-eaten. “I don’t know. Guess it’s just all -- ” his breath hitched, “ -- bullshit.”

“Bullshit.” Billy echoed.

“Yeah, man. Like -- I don’t give a shit, ya know? There are bigger things going on. Yeah, you piss me off most of the time but I think if we just...chill out around each other, who knows. You might actually like me.” He gave Billy a lopsided smile.

Billy threw a chip at him. “Don’t count on it.” _Bigger things going on._  Billy wondered what that meant.

Steve looked thoughtful. “I think you’ll come around. I can be quite convincing.”

“You don’t know me, Harrington.” Billy reminded him, ignoring the side of his brain that was reading into everything Steve said, picking out implications and suggestive tones. He wanted to stomp that part of him out. _Just one more year._

Steve looked at the kids. “Max is...she’s really great. I got to think you rub off on her a little. Not the asshole part. But she’s smart. Can take care of herself. I think she learned that from watching you.”

Billy doesn’t know what to say to that.

Steve continued. “Which makes me wonder. About you. Why you hide so much of yourself.”

“Alright, Harrington, no more beer for you.” Billy says, gets up and moves away, throws his plate on Max’s empty one and tells her they need to go.

She looks like she’s going to fight it.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t. Just hugs her friends and Steve and gets all her shit gathered up.

Steve doesn’t say anything else to Billy.

They leave. Max has her towel spread out over the car seat. Her eyes are tired from the day, the heat and the exertion. Billy feels like sleeping too.

“What’d Steve say to you?” Max asks suddenly.

Billy gives her an annoyed look. “Just. Nothing. Wants to be all buddy-buddy.”

Max chuckles a little. “Wow. Dangerous move.”

“Yeah, guy just doesn’t know when to quit. That whole Golden Boy bullshit really pisses me off.”

Max frowns. “Ya know, Steve’s a really cool guy. He’s not as much of an asshat as you seem to think he is.”

“Piss off, Max.” Billy says, hand tightening on the steering wheel.

“He asks about you sometimes.” She continues.

Billy wants to ask her about what, when does he ask, how often? Steve Harrington _asks_ about _him_?

She reads his mind. “Once in awhile when I see him he’ll ask where you are. I think he thinks you’re lonely.”

“Oh my god, shut _up_ Maxine.”

She rolls her eyes. “Ya know, it is possible that he honestly just wants to be your friend.” She points out.

“I think there’s something really weird about a guy wanting to be friends with someone who kicked their ass.” Billy says, pulling into their driveway.

She shrugs. “I think he sees more than you’d like him to. Just think about it.”

She gets out of the car. He doesn’t follow right away. Thinks about it for a few minutes before reaching for his smokes.

He realizes he left them at Harrington’s.

 

 

_‘Cause I clutched your arms like stairway railings_

_And you clutched my brain and eased my ailings_

_You’re writing lines about me_

_Romantic poetry_

* * *

 

“Please, Billy! Please?” She begs, hands clasped together, eyes wide.

“No. No way. I see Harrington enough at school.” He says, resistant and firm.

“But you don’t even have to hang out with us! You can go do your own thing, go get pizza or something!” She says, acts as if it’s the most brilliant idea she could possibly have.

“For _two hours_?” He says, getting his hands in his hair, bunching the curls up.

“Please?” She asks again, voice dripping sugar.

Billy thinks about it. “You’re doing dishes for a month.” He offers her a deal.

She pouts. “Fine.”

“Okay, _fine_. Get in the car.”

It’s after seven. The sun’s getting low and it’s cooling down a little, but the humidity is sticking around, like it’s got more to say. Like it needs to be heard. Billy leaves his jacket at home. Max leaves a note telling their parents where they are, emphasizing that it was _her_  idea and that Billy was _nice_ enough to comply.

He drives them both to the arcade. It’s swarming with kids on a Saturday night, prepubescent turds he didn’t want to be around, to listen to. But he parks and gets out with her, wants to make sure she gets inside alright. _For some reason._

She bolts away and Billy doesn’t rush to catch up. He finishes his cigarette before tailing in after her, scanning the crowd as his eyes adjust to the neon and spying a mop of brown hair that’s unmistakable.

He saddles up between Harrington and Dustin. They’re watching Max who is already zoned in on _Dig Dug_. Lucas scoots back a little, makes room but Billy suspects it's still because he's not too sure about Billy.

He doesn't blame the kid. Billy's  _also_ waiting to see how this pans out, if he'll  _behave._

“Hey! You made it!” Steve says once he realizes Billy's joined them, claps him on the back like they’re close friends.

Billy offers him a tight, toothy smile. One that clearly says _what the fuck am I doing here?_

Steve pulls him away by the arm until they’re in a corner together, standing close. Steve's being constantly bumped into by a stream of kids, and he shuffles closer. Billy resists shoving one of them. Barely.

“Didn’t think Max would be able to make it, thanks for bringing her!” Steve shouts over the screeching, the loud bleeps and blips from the machines, the rattle of change.

“Yeah, well. Trying for that _Brother of the Year_ award.” Billy says with a long roll of his eyes.

Steve nods a little, looks back at the kids for a second before turning back to Billy. “So, want to get out of here?” Like he hadn’t even been listening to Billy. Like he was already thinking of plan B and C.

Billy looks at him like Steve’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever seen. “What?”

“Let’s go get pizza. I’m starving.” Steve presses.

 _Jesus,_ did he and Max  _plan_ this? But thinks better of that cause his step-sister isn't  _that_ smart.

“Uh. Seriously?” He would rather just go sit in his car, smoke half a pack and listen to music. Stay within the bounds of logical. Not even logical,  _healthy._ The  _right_ thing for him to do. Steve's big doe-eyes and pouty mouth are more toxic than whatever shit they put into cigarettes.

Steve doesn't know the mental dilemma Billy is having. “Why not? Unless you want me to kick your ass at foosball.”

Billy snorts, can't stand being shown up attitude-wise, figures maybe if he hangs out with the kid he can still knock him down a peg or two while still remaining _civil_. “Yeah, you wish Harrington. Fine. Let’s get pizza.”

Dustin’s the only one that notices their departure. He taps Max’s shoulder but she doesn’t look back, just leans a bit closer to him to hear what he has to say.

“What’s up with your brother and Steve?” He asks.

The other boys glance over too. Max just shrugs. “Who knows.” Decides to let that remain a mystery for as long as she can, _well_ , as long as they let it.

"I think it's weird! Steve protected us, we should do the same for him. What if Billy kills him?" Dustin goes on, rambling.

"Billy's not gonna kill him." Max says. "He's just bored." Well, it's true.

"Steve's better than that." Mike shakes his head.

Max is about two seconds from turning away from the game and losing on purpose, but doesn't particularly feel like defending her step-brother anymore. For all she knows, Billy _will_ kill him. Then she'll be the one that looks stupid. 

Hands shoved in his pockets, Billy follows Steve out into the parking lot. They walk across it, Steve a few steps ahead of him. They reach the pizza parlor on the opposite end. Billy immediately notices how many people from school are there.

Suddenly wishes he’d said no.

Steve doesn’t pay them any mind, just gets in line for his slice and peers at the pizza behind the glass. He orders one with everything. Billy sticks to pepperoni.

“Hm. Figured you for a pineapple guy.” Steve says.

“Why in god’s name would you think that?” Billy asks, taking the slice that’s handed to him on a huge, folded napkin.

“Mmm, maybe cause you’re from California?” Steve says with a grin.

"We're not all  _totally tubular_ , Steven." He replies tartly.

They grab a table and dig in, Billy with both his feet up on his side of the booth like he owns it, Steve hunched over and digging in like it’s the best pizza he’s ever had.

Billy chews thoughtfully. Swallows and asks, “So where are your friends? Tommy and Carol and god help me, _Wheeler._ ”

Steve looks uncomfortable, stops eating for a second. “I don’t really hang out with them much. Nancy’s got Jonathan and Tommy’s always been a bit of a dick. Even more so than you.” He says with a cheeky smile.

“Yeah, I can see that. Guess he doesn’t have my natural charm to keep pulling you back in, huh?” He’s kidding but Steve swallows wrong and coughs. Billy pushes his can of soda across the table and Steve takes a swig. “Jesus, Harrington. Kidding.”

“Yeah. Ha.” Steve pretends to laugh but Billy can tell he’s pushed a button.

“So. What should we do for the next…” He looks at the clock on the wall. “Hour and forty-three minutes?”

Steve shrugs, wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Could always set fireworks off in the parking lot.”

Billy actually gets a kick out of that. “Do you _have_ fireworks?” He asks.

“Nope, figured you might. You look like the type.”

“The type that just happens to have fireworks?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s very specific.”

“Maybe I’ve been watching too many movies.” Steve says and gets this look in his eye like he might not be exaggerating.

Like in between school and hanging out with the tween crowd all he’s been doing is sitting in his house and staring at the television. Billy almost wants to feel bad for him but it’s not like he does much else besides work out and smoke. So. Figures he can’t really say much.

“Well, you dragged me out here, Harrington. I expect to be entertained.” He swivels around, sets his feet back on the ground, legs spread. “So. Entertain me.”

Steve throws his napkin at Billy. “Entertain yourself.” He says and sticks out his tongue, Billy tries not to let his eyes linger on the flash of pink.

A couple of girls come waltzing over, interrupting them. Steve grins and waves, lines on his forehead, bit of black olive stuck in his teeth. Billy wants to cry. This poor kid has no game.

The girls talk to Steve but it doesn’t take long before Billy has their undivided attention. He grins and bats his eyelashes, tells them him and Steve are gonna go get loaded somewhere, tells them that they should join. Steve gives him a weird look and Billy wants to slap his face, _yes_ he's lying through his teeth but  _they_ don't know that. The girls get all giggly and the cute brunette even pens her number on a napkin, slides it to Billy and leans in, whispers _call me_ before the redhead is pulling her friend away, saying something about how they _have_ to get to the mall before it closes.

Billy bunches up the napkin and throws it at Steve. It bounces off his face.

“How do you _do_ that?” Steve asks.

“What?” Billy feigns stupid, “c’mon, I’m dying for a smoke.” Mostly just wants to get away from these  _peers_ of theirs. People talk. And he definitely doesn't need it spreading around school that he and Steve Harrington went and had  _pizza_ together. It doesn't take much for teenagers to start throwing the word 'fag' around.

They get outside and Steve doesn’t even have to ask, Billy just hands him a cigarette.

“The girls. What do you do to make them act that way?” Steve asks again once he’s lit up.

Billy quirks an eyebrow, sucks on his cigarette for a moment before holding his hands out, gesturing to himself, decides to go the conceited route. “I mean, don’t need to do a whole lot.”

“Okay, yeah, but _besides that_ ,” like he’s not even gonna dispute how Billy looks, like he _agrees_ with it, “how do you get them to cave so fast? It’s like you don’t have to work for it.”

Billy thinks about that, about the image he’s worked years to build up, about how he acts when a mindless girl comes schmoozing up to him, about how even occasionally he’ll find a girl he doesn’t mind spending a lot of time with, if only to get Neil off his back. Thinks about dropping the cheesy  _they ain't never seen a boy like me_ line, but it feels forced, expected.

“I don’t know, man, how do you get girls?” Billy asks. Steve looks confused. “Oh my god, okay, come here.”

He walks away, leaving Steve to follow. They turn round the back of the pizza parlor, go around another corner and they’re in the alley, lights from the sidewalk their only saving grace.

“Okay, flirt with me.” Billy says.

“What?” Steve laughs a little, like it’s a big joke and he’s not in on it.

“Show me what you do with girls. How you _persuade_ them.” Billy says, leaning back against the brick, one foot resting on the wall.

“Uh. I. Uh. I don’t...you’re a _guy._ ” Steve battles for words, like he doesn’t know how to explain himself, doesn't know  _why_ it's weird to pretend to flirt with Billy.

“Yeah, the one getting the phone numbers. You wanna know how? Show me.” He says and okay, maybe the words _show me_ are whispered a little seductively. Sue him.

“O-okay.” Steve adjusts his stance, like _that’s_ gonna help him, having better footing. Billy doesn't say anything though, waits patiently to see how this pans out.

His voice drops an octave, Okay, maybe _half_ an octave. “Hey there.” Steve says, smiling like it’s hilarious. Because he’s not taking it seriously.

Billy just blinks at him. “Honestly? How did you even _get_ with Wheeler?”

Steve reaches out and slaps his shoulder. “Don’t be a dick.”

He waves his hands around. “Okay, okay.” Billy says after laughing. “Here’s what you gotta do. First, be interested in what they’re saying. Even if you’re not. Nod at them. Bring something up they already mentioned. Show them you’re listening. Don’t let them tell their life story, that can kill it. Just be present.”

Steve’s expression is serious as if he’s really trying to absorb what Billy’s telling him, filling his mental notebook with bullet points.

“Get close to them,” Billy slides forward, into Steve’s space.

The boy lets out a quiet laugh, a one-note sound and stumbles back, like he’s nervous. _Should be_ nervous.

“Smile a lot.” And Billy throws the most charming grin he can at Steve, reaches out and touches Steve’s elbow, getting closer. “Touch them if it feels appropriate, whenever you can. Not possessively, just in passing, like you’re not even thinking about it.”

“Al-alright.” Steve says, maybe didn’t realize how he had been drifting back as Billy kept getting closer, but now he knows cause he ends up slotted against the wall.

Billy puts a hand up, plants it on the brick above Steve’s head, leans in close, so close he can tell Steve’s flushed, fidgeting like he doesn’t know what’s going to happen. His breath comes out in stutters.

“And always, _always_ …” Billy leans in till he’s right _there_ , can feel Steve’s heart thump through his thin shirt, thinks about just doing it, _kissing him_ , but he holds back, brushes his face against Steve as he puts his mouth lightly against Steve’s ear, “leave them wanting more.”

Then pulls away so fast that Steve kinda sags against the wall, like he’s catching up with himself.

“And you should have panties dropping left and right.” Billy shrugs, like it’s no big deal.

Meanwhile Steve’s looking at him like he can’t figure out what just happened. Like Billy just showed him a magic trick.

And fuck, maybe he did.

Someone walks by the alley, doesn’t notice them but Steve stands up all the way, brushes a hand through his hair and it does nothing but flop back into place. Billy looks over to the opening of the alley, but doesn’t miss how Steve quickly grabs at the front of his pants, like he’s _adjusting_ himself, and _oh_ isn’t that a tasty development?

“C’mon, Harrington. I believe you said something about _attempting_ to kick my ass at foosball?”

Steve nods and says, “Yeah, okay let’s go.” But his voice is scratchy like he needs a drink.

Billy wonders what he’d be like drunk.

 

 

_Your girls got red in her cheeks_

_Cause we’re something she can’t see_

_And I try to refrain but you’re stuck in my brain_

* * *

 

“Steve wants to talk to you.” Max says the next weekend, holding out the phone to where Billy is sitting in the living room, cord stretching tight around the corner.

“God, why do you ever answer the _phone_?” Billy groans.

If possible it’s even _hotter_ than when they’d gone to Steve’s house two weeks prior. Too hot to even enjoy swimming. The news has been telling Billy all day that there’s an excessive heat warning, not to go outside unless it’s absolutely necessary -- and even then, you better watch your ass.

“Please, Billy?” Max’s eyes go wide, desperate.

He makes an annoyed sound, elongates it to the point where he’s flat-out whining but does all this while getting up and going over to the phone.

“What?” He asks moodily once he has the receiver up to his ear.

“And hello to you too.” Steve says on the other end of the line.

Billy thinks about the week he’d just had, how Steve would nod at him in the hall. He’d even been bold enough to sit with him at lunch on Wednesday. Billy had stared as he sat down. Steve gave him his pudding. It was _weird._

“Get to the point, Steve. It’s too hot to be standing.”

“The kids want to go see _Back to the Future_. It’s in theaters.”

Billy can’t handle _another_ escapade with them, not after the last one. He _can’t_. “Uh. Listen, that sounds great but my car’s A/C isn’t working, so it’s a bit of a bitch getting around right now.”

“I can pick you up.” Steve offered.

Billy sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. “Fine. But we’re also broke.”

“I got you.” Steve told him before the line went dead.

“You’re a pain in the ass.” He said to the dial tone.

“So we’re going?” Max asked excitedly once he’d hung up.

“Yeah, yeah.” Billy said halfheartedly, heading towards his room to put on clothes.

Twenty minutes later Steve was pulling up, honking to announce his arrival, like Billy hadn’t been watching out the window while anxiously biting his nails. But to make a point he tells Max to wait a few minutes, pretends to be looking for something in his room.

 _Make him wait,_  he thinks.

They finally leave the house, walking up to Steve’s car and both sighing with relief at the cool air being blasted inside that rushes out at them when he and Max open the doors.

Billy slid in the front, Max in the back next to Lucas and Dustin.

“The others are joining us at the theater, Nancy’s bringing them.” Steve explains before they have a chance to ask.

“Oh god, is Wheeler gonna be joining us?” Billy groaned. “I can’t deal with that.”

“No, she’s just dropping off Mike and Will.”

“What a saint.” He says in a sweet voice.

“Shut up.” Steve said before driving off.

Billy holds his tongue about the shitty pop music Steve plays while they drive. The kids in the backseat sing along. Billy thinks about saying something to Steve like _thanks_ or _nice car_ but he keeps his mouth shut, figures the ‘thank you’ is implied.

"So, Billy." Dustin says right in his ear like he's not sitting _directly_  behind him. His breath smells like sugary cereal and nougat. "What are your intentions towards my man here?" He says, clapping Steve on the shoulder.

Steve makes an offended sound and grabs at Dustin's hand, shoves it off. Dustin isn't perturbed.

Billy doesn't turn his head, doesn't bother looking at him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, calming himself.  _You can't punch this kid, he's like Steve's disciple or something._

"I don't know, Dusty. Figured he could use a friend his own  _age_." His face twitches at the word 'friend'. He's still not used to it.

Dustin scoffs. "First off, it's Dus _tin._ And second, Steve  _loves_ hanging out with us, dont'cha Steve?"

Steve is pointedly quiet, lets out a small whistle. Billy wants to whip his head back and yell  _ha_ right in Dustin's face but figures that would put a real hole in the whole 'friends his own age' thing.

"Steve?" Dustin repeats flatly like he's really saying  _c'mon buddy, any day now, an answer would be great._

Luckily Steve is saved as they pull into the theater. The kids bust out of the car to join Mike and Will who’re standing at the box office.

Steve pays for _all of them._

He buys the kids a big tub of popcorn and a carton of Bottle Caps, a soda and an Icee for them all to share. Steve looks at Billy and asks what he wants.

Harrington’s already shelled out more cash than Billy feels comfortable with. He just shakes his head. Steve rolls his eyes, orders another popcorn and soda, pushes them into Billy’s hands and tells him to go add salt to the popcorn.

“Don’t overdo it.” He says, paying the bill at the register.

Billy thinks about pouring half a tub of salt on it, _just_ to be petty, but shakes the container twice and rejoins the group as they walk in. Steve hands off the tickets and an acne-covered kid rips them, hands them back, tells them _enjoy the show_ before they file in.

The theater is even chillier and Billy honestly considers asking Steve to buy tickets to whatever's playing after this. The kids all run to the front row but Billy and Steve hold back.

“Uh. We could. Sit over there.” Steve says awkwardly, pointing higher up.

Billy nods and they go to sit together.

He is suddenly very aware that they are two dudes at a movie together with one popcorn, probably look like they’re on a fucking _date_. They sit down and Billy wishes he had something to do with his hands. Steve clears his throat as he takes the popcorn from Billy, not looking directly at him.

“Well. It would be weirder if we sat separate.” Steve says, reading his mind.

“Not sure about that.” Billy says, sinking down in his seat as more people trail in, groups and couples and he just keeps thinking of how they must look.

The kids are making a racket up front but the movie hasn’t started yet so Billy doesn’t feel the need to tell them to can it.

“Do you want to move?” Steve asks him brusquely.

“No, Harrington. God. Don’t make a scene.” Billy hisses as a couple sit directly behind them.

“Then don’t be a baby.” Steve grumps at him, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

The next three minutes before the theater lights dim are the longest of Billy’s life. He wants to run out, wait in the lobby till the movie’s over but before he can seriously consider it the previews kick up and he lets out a silent breath of relief.

The movie doesn’t suck. Sure, there are some plot holes like _why the hell is this kid friends with an eighty year old disgraced nuclear physicist_ but overall it’s enjoyable.

Steve keeps handing him the popcorn and eventually Billy starts eating it, even takes a few sips from the soda that’s sitting between them.

Twice he can feel Steve’s eyes on him. He looks over the second time and their eyes meet in the dim light. Something’s happening on-screen, something Billy wants to be paying attention to but the way Steve is looking at him -- it’s complex.

He looks like he wants to say something but he’s biting at his lip, looking Billy up and down, eyes contemplating. Is he _blushing?_  Billy wants to ask _what? what are you looking at?_ but he doesn’t want to be that asshole who talks during a movie. So he just stares back for a moment before moving his eyes back to the screen, can feel that Steve does too.

Afterwards they don’t talk about it. The kids are all filling in the silence enough on their own, talking a mile a minute, about the cool car and Marty McFly and the asshole that almost raped his mom -- seriously what _was_ that movie?

Nancy’s standing in front of the theater when they come out. It’s still insufferably hot and she’s waving a leaflet in her face. Billy doubts it helps.

She waves to Mike and Will before she sees Billy and her eyes harden.

Steve smiles at her and they chat for a few minutes. Billy hangs back, watches Nancy’s face go from worried to annoyed to compromising, eyes traveling over to Billy occasionally but never for more than a second or two, a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of ordeal. Billy wants to flip her off.

She squeezes Steve’s arm before walking away and Billy wants to ask Steve what she said, is actually sorta dying to know, but that doesn’t coincide with his plan.

Which he’s still trying to stick to.

And then he realizes Max is walking _away_ with the group of kids.

“Uhhh…” Billy reaches out a little, wants to tell her to _get the fuck back here_ but Steve stops him.

“Nancy’s gonna take them out for ice cream. So. Um. I can drive you back if you want?” Steve offers.

Billy wants to shake his head, insist he can walk. He can take the bus.

But fuck, _the humidity._  And he’s _broke_. And Harrington would get that kicked puppy look on his face and it would be Billy’s fault and _god,_  since when did guilt trips become such a thing?

“Oh. Okay.” He says, suddenly nervous as hell.

It was fine when they were toting around a bunch of kids, had a real reason to be hanging out. This was uncharted territory. This was Billy and Steve being alone together with no buffer. Which meant there was probably going to be _talking_ involved.

Billy fingered his necklace as they walked back to the car. He almost wanted to sit in the back but that would be very obvious and stupid so he just gets in the front passenger seat and pointedly stares out the window. Steve turns the car on and changes the radio station to rock. Billy sticks his tongue in his cheek.

Steve drives and Billy is quiet until he digs out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“Do you mind?” He asks.

Steve looks over at him and shakes his head. “Long as you give me one.”

He does and they light up. Billy wants to ask about the pack he left at Steve’s house a couple weeks back. Is almost completely sure they’ve been smoked by now.

Billy’s bouncing his leg. He never does that. He’s not the nervous type. Not usually.

“So. Tell me about California.” Steve says suddenly.

 _No. No talking._  “It was sunny.” Billy deadpans. His tone could suggest that he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Steve doesn’t take the hint and a laugh busts out of him that makes Billy look over, surprised. “I mean, like. What kind of stuff did you do. Can you surf?” He asked.

Billy wants to roll his eyes and be snotty. But he doesn’t. “Never picked it up. We lived close to the ocean but I liked the pier more. Buncha people playing music and juggling and shit.” _Great place for dates_ he almost says.

“So why’d you move?”

 _None of your fucking business._  “Dad just. Wanted to start over. My. Uh. My mother died.”

“Oh.” Steve murmurs and Billy is honestly glad that he doesn’t say _I’m sorry_. “So did you...have a lot of girlfriends out there?” He asks.

Billy shrugs, looks back out the window. “Sure.”

“Aren’t there a lot of...queers in California?” Steve asks, voice going a little funny.

Billy snaps his head back in Steve’s direction, thinks about opening the car door and barreling out, rolling and tumbling and inhaling dust and getting tiny rocks buried in the skin of his elbow. “I guess. It’s a bit more progressive out there.”

Steve nods. “So did you ever…” He trails off.

Billy knows what he’s asking. Doesn’t know _why_.

He does _not_ feel comfortable talking about this with Steve. But silence would implicate him as well. Fight or flight, fight or flight? Billy thinks that road rash might be a nicer option than continuing this conversation.

“Did I ever?” Billy says, not prompting, more like making fun of Steve’s wording. “Why? You wanna know what it’s like?”

Danger. _Danger_. This is not territory Billy should be breaching. But maybe if he’s upfront about it Steve will flounder. Shut his goddamn mouth.

It’s then that he realizes that Steve’s not heading back to his house. Either of their houses. He’s just driving around. He’s doing this on purpose. He’s _stalling._

Steve’s jaw is set, he swallows hard, eyes trained on the road. “Just, uh. Jonathan thinks his brother might be...gay. I thought maybe you could...talk to him.”

“Cause you think I’m gay.” Billy finishes for him.

“Well...Max -- ”

“What the _fuck_ did Max say?” Billy asks, suddenly furious. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted that little shit.

“Nothing, nothing. She didn’t _say_ you were gay. Just. I don’t think she meant to say _anything._ She just talks about California and treads into the reason you guys had to move and...I came to my own conclusions.”

“Well, aren’t you a smartie.” Billy snorts.

“So you are?”

“Steve. I don’t really want to talk about it.” He finally says, flicking his cigarette out the window and crossing his arms.

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I don’t want to...to make you uncomfortable. I’m just asking for...for…”

“Jonathan’s brother.” Billy supplies. “Yeah, yeah. Well. I’m not confirming anything but I, uh. I ran into plenty of queers in California. I could probably talk to him a little. Make him feel better. Tell him to get the fuck outta here, that’s for sure.”

Steve smiles a little. “Okay.”

“That’s the only reason you’re asking?” Billy pries.

 _And just why did Billy want to push the subject?_ Cause he had no fucking sense of self-preservation, that was for fucking sure.

Steve’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, he shifts in his seat, his smile faltering and being replaced with a straight line. “Yeah, that’s it.”

He’s lying. Billy wants to know why. Wants to ask why Steve was staring at him during the movie, wants to know why he’s suddenly taken up smoking, wants to know why Steve looks like a zombie most days, despite apparently no longer caring about his breakup with Wheeler. Why was he so damn out of it? Why wasn’t he sleeping?

Steve drives and drives but Billy doesn’t ask where he’s taking him. Doesn’t ask him anything.

They end up at the railroad tracks. Steve reaches over and for a moment Billy panics, thinks for some bizarre reason Steve is going to _touch_ him, but his hand pops open the glove compartment and he produces a baggie of marijuana and rolling papers.

“Wow. Golden Boy tokes up.” Billy says flatly.

“Yeah, did you need to go home right away?” Steve asks, anxious.

“No. It’s. It’s fine.” Billy says. “Probably better I don’t show up before Max. It’ll give her a chance to answer whatever bullshit questions my dad might have.”

They’re quiet while Steve rolls the joint. Billy keeps staring out the window, can’t handle watching Steve’s tongue lick along the paper. He only looks over when there’s a flick of a lighter, watches Steve run it up and down the joint to dry it. He brings it up to his mouth and lights it, puffing, taking hard hits.

It’s obviously rolled too tight. Billy takes it when Steve hands it to him and Billy rolls it in his fingers, massaging it, opening it up more. He takes a hit and blows the smoke plume pointedly in Steve’s face.

“We also know how to roll joints out in California.” He smirks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waves a hand in his face and coughs.

Billy’s still smirking around the joint in his mouth, taking another hit. For as shitty a roller as Steve is, the weed is actually incredibly good. Not Cali-good, but good.

“Ya know, you’re really weird.” Billy says after they’re a few more hits in, passing the joint back and forth.

This time their fingers brush.

“Oh yeah?” Steve asks, eyebrows raising. Clearly interested in what Billy has to say.

“Yeah, you’re not really what I expected. For a _king._ ”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Thought I’d be some preppy douchebag?”

“Steve. You’re in a polo. Look at the car you drive. You’re the definition of prep.”

“ _But,_  I’m not a douchebag.” Steve points out.

“I don’t know, haven’t decided that part yet.” Billy tells him.

“Wow, last time I take you out.” Steve says.

They both freeze.

“I. I mean bring you with.” Steve corrects.

Billy cocks his head to the side, looks at Steve carefully who is pretending to be busy snuffing out the joint.

And he can’t resist.

“Steve, are you…” He trails off.

Steve looks over at him sharply. He’s _blushing_ again but that could be from the pot. Billy’s beginning to feel pretty hot himself.

“What?” Steve asks aggressively. Defensively.

“Look, dude. If you’re trying to,” he wiggles his eyebrows, “you _know_. Well. Don’t. I’m planning on getting the hell out of here as soon as I have my diploma and. I can’t. Be distracted.” The sentence is all separated, punched out of him. He doesn’t even know how to say it. _Leave me alone. Stay away. Run._

Steve’s eyes get sad, his mouth bunches up. Billy wants to take it back.

“And I’m a distraction?” Steve asks, letting out a long breath.

“Uh.” Well, Billy hadn’t meant to imply... _that_.

“Am I?” Steve pushed.

“Steve, you’re really starting to piss me off.” Billy said, though his words held no heat.

Steve huffed. “You’re a pain in the ass.” He says, and Billy thinks of earlier when he’d said the same thing to a dead phone line.

“Look, have you ever even had _thoughts_ about another dude?” Billy asked him incredulously. "Is this just some tension-release thing for you? You gotta fill in the blanks here cause I'm coming up with my own conclusions and trust me, ya don't want that."

Steve still looks mad. Looks like he doesn’t want to answer. He shrugs a little. The shade on his face darkens a little.

Something clicks in Billy’s mind, gears slipping into place. “Have you...had thoughts about _me_?”

“No!” Steve says too quickly.

“Geez, _that’s_ convincing.” Billy chuckles.

Steve snaps open the release on the car door, pushes out of his seat and slams the door behind him. Billy can’t help it, he’s _interested_. He follows suit, joining Steve outside.

Steve’s pacing, hands on his hips. He looks pissed, looks at Billy like he wants to ask for another cigarette. Billy would let him have one. If he asked.

“Okay, so let’s talk about you!” Steve says, fire in his words. In his eyes. In the hostility of his bunched shoulders. “Why are you such an asshole? Why? When you obviously care _so much_ about what other people think.”

Billy’s features tighten up, teeth clamped together, brows drawn close. His face goes dark, eyes zoning in on the mole on Steve’s cheek.

“I’m just saying -- around me, you can relax. You don’t have to...ya know...be _Billy Hargove_.”

“And exactly who the fuck am I supposed to be?” Billy was coming up right behind his rage, tailgating it, threatening to cross the line, wanting to test it out. Sure, he hid things about himself but he wasn't  _fake._ Just didn't think that certain things were anybody's fucking business.

Steve didn’t back down though. Squared his shoulders and walked closer. It reminded Billy that Steve was _taller_ than him and god, did that piss him off.

“Just be my friend.” Steve says softly, carefully. Like he's trying to bring the situation back down to a reasonable level, trying to diffuse a bomb that's already mid-blow.

“Friendly.” Billy corrected, spitting the word out. “ _Civil._ ” Two steps closer and there was maybe a foot left between them. That space crackled with promise. Billy thought of bloody knuckles and black eyes. He licked the front of his teeth, hungry for the contact.

Steve nodded his head. “You were doing fine before. Don’t you _want_ to be friends?”

Billy barked out a laugh. Steve blinked and moved his face back a centimeter, shocked at the sound.

“No, Harrington. I don’t _want_ to be anything to you. I just want to keep my head down and get the _fuck_ outta Hawkins.” _Like he would tell Will._  Suddenly wishes he could reword what he’d said, realizes he’s making this _easy_ for Steve.

Steve pursed his lips. “Whatever. Be a depressing loner. Just thought I could make it easier.”

“You don’t _need_ to be responsible for everyone. The kids. Nancy. Me. Just leave everyone the fuck alone!”

And there, he’d crossed the line.

Steve threw his hands up, shoving Billy back, cheeks blotchy. “Fuck you. I don’t. _Do_ that.”

Billy smirked. There it was. There was that fire. God, why was he stoking it? This was the opposite of what he wanted. Didn’t want to get into another fist fight.

_Just turn around and walk away._

“You’re not a king anymore, Steve. Stop trying to act like it.”

Steve scoffed. “You’re the only one that gives a shit about titles, asshole. I’m just trying to be a decent person, care about the people around me.”

“Well we don’t want your fucking help!” Billy shouted, keeping his hands down despite how they clenched.

Steve studied him for a moment. “Ya know, I don’t think you can speak for everyone else but _fine,_  I’ll leave _you_ alone.”

Steve turned on his heel and walked back to the car. Billy hadn’t wanted to do that. But he’d done what he always did -- pushed and _pushed_.

The tension in his back grew, he rolled his shoulders with it, letting out a guttural, annoyed sound. Stalked over to where Steve was standing, staring at the back of his _stupid_ head, right at another one of those  _stupid_ moles. He thinks he hears Steve sniff, _thinks_ he sees his arms moving like he's rubbing at his face, at his eyes. Billy  _hates_ him. Before the kid has a chance to get in the car Billy grabs his shoulder and shoves him around so they're face-to-face.

He fills his hands with Steve’s collar, pushes him back against the door, his legs knocking Steve’s back.

“You _could’ve_ left me alone at your house. Didn’t _have_ to have pizza with me. I didn’t _need_ to be invited to the movies. You _wanted_ to see me. You _wanted_ to be my friend. And I don’t fucking get it. Why, Steve? Why?”

Steve had his hands on Billy’s, fingers trying to pull them away, eyes scrambling over Billy’s face, his neck, his eyes.

“Stop.” He breathed, quiet and  _scared._

Billy had only been this close to him twice. The first resulted in broken dishware and bloody faces. The second time Billy had nearly kissed him. Not that Steve knew that. Just knew that when Billy Hargrove got close, everything was up for grabs and he reached out and _took_ with greedy hands, dirty fingers, eyes that pierced through like nails in the bat that had landed between his legs back at the Byers house.

Billy grins, crazy and wide, knows that he's _stronger_ than Steve and for this unfortunate moment, he's taking advantage of that. “You _want_ me, Steve? Is that it? When did that happen? Was it when I was beating your face in?” He hissed, knocking their heads together gently.

Inch by inch he was giving in, the weed thick on his tongue, inebriating his better judgement. His plan, his sturdy plan --  it was being dismantled at the foundation. It was a game of Jenga -- Billy kept accidentally knocking side pieces off while Steve was taking out the ones in the middle, letting columns collapse. Didn't care about the mess he was creating.

They were panting. Both of them. Billy leaned in, lips ghosting Steve’s. Asking him a question.

Steve froze up, tried to say something but he swayed back like he couldn't speak, couldn't catch his breath and focus. Billy didn't let him get too far, just let out a shuddering breath, about to decide this for himself.

Another beat and Steve closed the gap. Billy was kind of impressed.

Their lips were pressed together, just pressing. No movement. Billy’s eyes were open a little. Steve’s were closed. It lasted seconds, pathetically short. Steve moved back, breaking the contact, breathed harshly, his eyes bright once he opened them. Billy remembered that spark. Had seen it before. _Before everything_.

“Fuck you.” He bit out, hands moving to grab Steve’s head, pulling him back in.

Billy didn’t give him a chance to think, just licked into Steve’s mouth and held him still, held him so all he could do was _take_. He bit a little, nipping at Steve and heard him let out a whine. Billy desperately wanted to hear that sound again, wanted to see how many different noises Steve _could_ make.

Steve was pliant, easy to move and invade. He was breathing hard through his nose. His hands were gripping Billy’s hips. His lips were hesitant, second-guessing, untrained at how to react to someone else taking the lead.

It was too hot out for this.

Billy entertained the thought of pulling Steve into the back seat, getting his jeans low enough to get his mouth around Steve’s cock, imagined the sounds he would make _then_  as Billy took him apart, inch by inch. He moaned at the thought, a shudder ripping up his spine.

_This is not supposed to be happening._

But then Steve was pushing his chest, pushing him back. Billy let him, mouths separating with a lewd sound.

They were both looking at each other like...they couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“You. You shouldn’t have done that.” Steve finally said, hand going up to touch his mouth. He was _shaking_.

“You did it first.” Billy said. He was trembling as he watched Steve's fingers graze his lips, could bet they were tingling.

He didn’t know what else to say. Didn’t know _why_ he’d done it in the first place. Why he’d wanted to see that fire in Steve, that light in his eye. He’d told Steve that he wasn’t responsible for Billy.

So why did he feel so goddamn responsible for _Harrington_ of all people.

Billy felt unhinged, didn't know if he wanted to try and get his hands back on Steve or turn and run away.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Steve muttered, answering Billy's question, his hand fumbling on the handle and getting into the car fast.

Billy made his way around the front of the vehicle, watching Steve through the windshield, slipping in and still staring.

Steve started up the car. The tension between them was thick, thick as the air outside, like the heat had seeped in and found a home in the pit of their stomachs, under their arms, slicking their lower backs.

Steve cleared his throat, backing out and getting the car turned around. “So, you’re not gonna. Tell anyone. Are you?”

Billy scoffed, didn't know why that stung. “Trust me, this isn’t something I want advertised.” He shook his head. “Don’t even know what I’d say if I had anyone to tell.”

Steve nodded once. Billy stared out the window for a while, two whole songs played before he turned back to Steve, finally getting up the courage to say what he’d meant to say for the last couple of weeks.

“I’m sorry.” The words were foreign on his tongue. He couldn't remember the last time he'd apologized,  _really_ apologized, not like the bullshit  _sorry's_ he fed to Neil,

Steve glanced over at him suspiciously. “For?”

“I don’t know. All of it. Being a dick...breaking your face...what just happened.” Steve didn’t reply. “You’re not...you don’t...I don’t think of you like that, like you’re some fucking annoyance.”

“Oh?” Steve questioned, teeth slipping over his bottom lip, pulling.

“I don’t know why I said it, okay? I’ve just never had anyone really...give a shit. It’s new for me.”

Steve nodded, kept nodding as if taking in Billy’s words syllable by syllable. “Okay. I’m sorry too. For pissing you off and being nosy.”

“I want to.” Billy said, pausing briefly. “Be friends. I want to keep working on that.”

Steve sighed, “I’m sorry for kissing you, okay? I don’t want to ruin anything.”

“Are you trying to say I’m a bad kisser?” Billy teased. He was surprised at himself. At how he wasn’t bothered by what Steve had done. Thought the kid had balls.

 _What happened to the plan, dumbass?_ He ignored that, rubbed his lips together to keep from frowning, mostly wondered if he could still taste Steve on them.

“No! No. You’re. It was…”

It was so damn easy to make Steve Harrington blush. Billy wondered how far down that color went, if it traveled all the way down his neck and teased the top of his chest.

He was getting ahead of himself.

“I didn’t hate it.” Steve finally concluded.

“Wow, Harrington. Really know how to give a guy a compliment.”

“You just need to know, I wasn’t _trying_ to make anything happen. I wasn’t trying to push you. I was honestly just out to find someone to talk to Will, and. Well.”

“You never answered my question earlier.” Billy said, prompting Steve to give him a quizzical look. Billy raised his eyebrows. “Have you thought about me? Like _that_?”

Steve considered this, opened and closed his mouth a few times, shooting Billy an embarrassed glance.

“I was having these nightmares.” He finally said. “Not just about you -- ” he added quickly. “But after a while, they turned into...well, not _nightmares._ ”

 _Shit_ , _Harrington had been dreaming about him._

“Care to fill me in on the details?” Billy asked mischievously, skipping over the fact that he had been right about one thing: Steve Harrington wasn't sleeping.

“Um. Not really.” Steve said with a nervous smile.

“Hmm, bet I could wring it out of you.” Billy said, officially having far too much fun with a squirming Steve. Wondered how far him and Wheeler had gotten. Thought about if they ever tried anything close to dirty talk. Imagined all the things he could do to Steve for the first time, could corrupt him with.

His dick was certainly interested in it.

They passed a familiar road sign and Billy realized Steve was pulling onto his street.

Reality hit him like a fucking _wall._

“Stop here!” Billy blurted out, spotting his dad's truck in the driveway.

Steve slammed on the break. They jerked forward. “What?” Steve half-shouted.

“I--I just. I don’t want my dad to see the car.” He said. _To see you. To see us._

Steve looked at the pickup truck. “Okay. So just drop you off here?”

“Yeah.” Billy said softly.

He thought about his next move and decided he was already this far in, might as well enjoy it. Didn't know if he'd have this chance again.  _Wanted_ to be selfish.

“C’mere.” He said, reaching over and threading his fingers through Steve’s hair, pulling him over the armrest and meeting him halfway.

Steve only had a second to pull away if he wanted. But Billy was surprised as they kissed again, open-mouthed and filthy for all of five seconds before he pulled away at the risk of anyone seeing them. Steve was delicious, moving his mouth against Billy’s in a way that made his heart tighten up, made him want to drag Steve into his lap.

“That okay?” Billy asked once they separated, taking in Steve’s blown-out eyes, open mouth. _Wet and red._

“Uh. Y-yeah.” But Steve was lying again and Billy could only imagine the things running through his mind, the questions and the  _panic._

He tried for normal. “Cool. Maybe next week we can haul the kids over to the roller rink?” Billy suggested.

“Sure.” Steve said, fingers dancing on the steering wheel.

Billy offered him a smile. He got out of the car, tapping the top when he shut the door and watching Steve pull off.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking towards his house.

_So much for having a plan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I don't even know where this came from. Just needed to get it out before season 3 inevitably ruins us. And not in the good way.
> 
> Sorry about the tense changes, but I can't control myself.
> 
> Lyrics are from Halsey's 'Is There Somewhere' and it's been giving me major vibes for this.
> 
> And yes, the bits about Back to the Future are courtesy of John Mulaney who makes some damn good points on how insane this movie is.


	2. AUGUST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stares until his eyes feel like they're burning and he knows. He feels the pang in his chest like a wrecking ball and the affection bubble underneath that, frothy like champagne.
> 
> Billy knows nothing can stop him from wanting Steve Harrington.

_Haven’t you heard that I_

_Talk about you in my sleep?_

* * *

 

Saturday get-togethers turn into Sunday rendezvous.

Summer’s dwindling. They're losing to time and the kids decide they want to spend what remains of it holed up in Mike’s basement or Dustin’s garage or Steve’s living room, doing that campaign shit Billy can’t fully wrap his head around.

Life’s already full of monsters, doesn’t know why they feel inclined to make up stories about them.

But they’re, like, _super_ into it and with the gusto and passion they have -- well. You’d think they’d fought some for real.

So, Saturdays turn into Sundays and fuck, as long as Billy’s not stuck at the house with his dad, he’s nice about it when Max pesters him for rides.

Plus, Harrington’s there, so. It’s not all bad.

Well, would be better if Steve would get his head out of his ass.

Steve doesn’t sit with him at lunch anymore which is mostly awkward because there's only about two dozen students and assorted teachers there over the summer, and Steve sitting on one end of the cafeteria and Billy on the other, eyeballing each other, has got to be the thing Billy's most uncomfortable about. He wishes he had the balls to shout over to him, call him a little bitch. But he doesn't. Steve ignores him when they pass in the halls like the last few weeks hadn’t happened, like the entire month of July was some huge blip. Billy bites at his nails till they bleed, wishes he had the money to buy a punching bag. Needs to take his goddamn frustration out on _something._

Instead of avoiding Neil’s wrath he chases it for a few days, fishes till he catches a split lip and a large bump on his head, seriously thinks he might be concussed from how hard he hit the ground. Whatever, it wouldn’t be the first time and it’s nice to taste the coppery tang of blood, to bite the skin on his lip as it heals, reopen it again and again. It’s familiar, _grounds_ him.

He knows he’s fucked up. He can’t remember a time when he wasn’t. There's a spot on the floor in the living room where some of his blood ended up, right at one of the corners where carpet meets hardwood and Billy sits next to, lays back and puts his head by it and thinks about his dad hitting his face, his chest, getting a hand in his hair and pulling so hard Billy gets spots behind his eyes.

Basketball practice is the only time Steve seems to let out a little steam, planting his feet for once, taking shots and _making_ them, elbowing past the guys that try to block him. He doesn’t touch _Billy_ though, even when he gets _right up behind him._ Steve just spins on his feet and meets him with fire on his face, a snarled lip and bared teeth. Half of Billy wants to slap him on the back and say _finally_ but the other half wants to know what the fuck brought it all on. The lines under his eyes are still there, still digging into his skin like they own property.

 _Dreams,_ Billy thinks. _Dreams and nightmares._

Billy wants to go to Steve and recommend fighting with someone, the adrenaline is better because you never know what to expect, makes the tension something real, something you can touch under your fingertips and taste in the back of your throat, swallow down and let it explode in your stomach. He doesn’t, the thought of Steve touching someone else with that kind of aggression makes him feel replaceable.

There are plenty of showers in the locker room but Billy always finds a spot under the same circle of shower heads that Steve occupies. He tries to start up a conversation a couple of times, nothing important in his words, just pointless shit the other guys won’t get suspicious about, but Steve tells him to _fuck off_ and leaves Billy’s side, changing into clothes without toweling off, damp and dripping as he exits the locker room. How far the King has fallen.

Harrington was clearly _freaking out._

Billy couldn’t blame him, had gone through the same kind of shit when he had first started actively thinking about boys, and for a long time after that when he pretended he _wasn’t_ thinking about boys. The first guy that ever tried to touch him like _that_ ended up with a broken finger, a busted kneecap.

So. Billy understood. Doesn’t make it any easier.

Each week, after bringing Max to the Designated Campaign House of the Week, Billy tries to come up with something to say to Harrington, something that doesn’t make him sound like he’s desperate, something casual.

The best thing he comes up with is _hey, do you have an Atari?_

Like Pac-Man is going to fix everything.

They continue to dance around each other, Billy doing stupid things --

\-- like holding the door open when Steve finally gets to Mike’s house with Dustin and Lucas, Steve doesn’t thank him.

\-- like bringing Steve coffee in a huge thermos cause he’s stumbling around all the time, Steve takes two sips and leaves it on the kitchen counter.

\-- like taking his cassettes inside for them to listen to in Steve’s kitchen while the kids shout and exclaim from the next room over, Steve doesn’t comment on them very much but Billy will catch him moving his lips to _You Shook Me all Night Long_ and _Rebel Yell._

Steve’s _still nervous_. He never seems to know what to do with his hands, except for when he’s touching his face, combing fingers through his hair, does this thing where he massages his chin with his pointer fingers lightly when he’s thinking about something.

When his fingers aren’t busy touching himself, he drums a tune Billy doesn’t know on the table, and for some crazy reason it’s repetitive and sporadic enough that he thinks it’s Morse code. Billy wonders if Steve had been a scout at some point.

Billy hates noticing things like this. Hates that he’s tucking the information away like some lovesick teenager -- who gives a fuck if he’s seventeen, doesn’t have to _act_ like it. They’re still not talking, not _really_ talking. Steve’s giving him one-word answers and Billy’s almost pissed off cause _hey_ , that had been his thing. When did the dynamic change?

 _When you tongue-fucked him next to the railroad tracks_ his mind supplies.

And great. Doesn’t need to keep thinking about _that_. He already replays it in his head more nights than he’d care to admit, one hand wrapped around his dick, his other in a fist and shoved in his mouth, digging his teeth into his knuckles.

There’s a weekend where Susan asks him to stay home and fix a window Neil had broken a few days prior. He had been drunk and throwing punches. While Billy caught the worst of the hits he had managed to avoid one and Neil’s fist collided, shattering glass everywhere. Susan wrapped his knuckles and swept up the glass without a word. Neil didn’t comment on it the next morning and didn’t show any initiative towards fixing it. A new window unit from the hardware store sat in the living room for a whole week, collecting dust and taunting them.

Billy doesn’t _want_ to but Susan asked him and if word got back to Neil that he said no? He imagined things like a dislocated shoulder, broken ribs. He tells her he’ll do it and watches as Susan leaves to take Max to join her friends, tries not to think about missing certain people.

He spends the day drinking too fast through a six-pack and carefully unscrewing the window frame, using a crowbar and putty knife to dislodge the rotted wood once he gets the unit out. He makes sure to put newspaper down for the mess. He bobs his head to _Rock! Rock! (Till You Drop)_ and _Nervous Shakedown_ , holding the screws in his mouth as he slips the new window frame in, reading instructions from a booklet word-for-word. He finds himself immersed in the task and is grateful for the change in pace, for something mundane and task-oriented to think about. For a couple of hours his brain isn’t a constant stream of _Steve._

Hair. Face. Ass. Hands.

He mouths the words to _What’s Your Name_ by Depeche Mode as he finishes up. The window doesn’t look _that_ bad. Sure, maybe he’d had to shove one corner in a bit roughly, _maybe_ there was a small crack in the wood but whatever, the whole house was like that; dilapidated and water-logged.

“ _Hey you’re such a pretty boy, you’re so pretty.”_   He sings lowly, taking a step back and admiring his work. Chases away the thought of going into construction, can't imagine himself in a yellow vest and hard hat, doing something to benefit other people. It's never been his thing.

The front door opens and Susan and Max walk in, both carrying some bags from the convenience shop in town. Max is toting her skateboard under one arm, the new one Billy picked out but Susan paid for. It had been an awkward conversation at the time, explaining why he felt compelled to pick it out and give it to her. _Because I beat up her babysitter and threatened her boyfriend._

Susan thanks him a few times and Billy keeps saying it’s okay, it's no trouble, it's _fine_.

Truthfully he hates that word. It simplifies and downplays. Makes people shut up and move on without getting their hands dirty with other people's bullshit. It’s _lazy._

Susan’s appreciation is lost on him. She hands him a pack of cigarettes and Billy can’t help but scrunch his nose up in mild discomfort. He hadn’t asked for them, never expects rewards for doing household tasks.

But shit, he’ll take what he can get. He pockets them with a nod, attempts a smile that probably comes out more malicious than grateful.

Max is in the kitchen shoving generic-brand mac-n-cheese and flour into the cupboard.

“How was the fairytale?” He asks when he sees her, opens the fridge even though he’s not looking for anything. He doesn’t want to seem as though he's digging for information.

“It’s called a _campaign,_ ” she enunciates like it might be a hard word for him. She comes up behind him, pushes a carton of milk in his hands for him to put away, “and it was good. Mike’s mom made pink lemonade and cookies, Lucas tried out my skateboard and ate _shit_ ,” she whispers the word so Susan doesn’t hear her, “Steve bailed though, it was weird.”

Billy doesn’t care. He _doesn’t._ “Oh?” He looks at her as casually as he can.

“Yeah, I told him you were doing stuff at home and he just left. It was strange. He seemed distracted.” She cocks her head, turns to meet his gaze. “He didn’t come here, did he?”

“No?” He says, eyes going a bit hazy as he thinks about what he would have said if Steve Harrington had shown up at his door.

She presses her lips together in a tight line. “He seemed really off.”

“It’s not my problem.” He tells her tightly, turns and leaves the kitchen. The beer is in his system, controlling his tongue and his movements. He _doesn’t_ care but he probably comes off a bit more bitchy than he intends to.

He gets to his room and pushes the door shut behind him but a hand comes up and bumps it open. Max was following him.

“Billy, look, I don’t know the details on whatever you guys got going on, and I don’t want to.” She’s got her hands on her hips and for a brief moment Billy can _see_ the woman she’ll become. He knows she’ll be a worrier and a warrior, she’ll be rough around the edges but she’ll have a soft heart. She’ll do things for her friends that inconvenience her. She’ll care too much. She’ll get _hurt._

“But. Steve is important to me, to all of us and he’s, like, a fucking ghost these days.” His lips twitch, hiding a smile. For now, she’s still a kid though. He hopes she enjoys it while it lasts.

“Just kiss and make up, okay? Or whatever it is you guys do. Punch each other. Talk shit, I don’t know. Just...help him. He was doing really well when you guys started hanging out. And I know, okay, I _know_ I told you to leave us all alone. Obviously that’s not really an option anymore. So _help_ him.”

_It’s not my fucking job!_

He wants to point out the irony of Max telling her to beat Steve up but holds his tongue. She’s seriously concerned. It’s unnerving.

“Sure, Max. I’ll work on that.”

His tone is ambiguous and he knows it. She looks like she wants to say more but instead stands there for a few seconds before leaving his room.

Billy misses when he was blissfully out of the loop.

 

_Killing ourselves_

_As a way of keeping the peace_

* * *

 

He’s sitting on the cement steps outside Dustin’s house, smoking his second cigarette in a row, doesn’t want to go back inside yet. Avoiding it.

It's one of those summer days that's overcast, clouds billowing and churning in the sky in a way that makes Billy want to sit and watch. There's a darkness everywhere, like a blanket cloaking the area in damp uncertainty.

He really doesn't want to go back inside and for a surreal moment he wishes he had someone else to hang out with like Tommy or the dude in his math class that constantly asks to borrow a pencil, Daryl or whatever. Dan maybe?

His distaste of the inside is partially because he’s sick of listening to the kids yell at each other. Over each other.

“ _Go left! Go left towards the town!”_

_“No we don’t need the supplies, we need to continue into the woods or we’ll lose daylight!”_

_“I’m a fucking feral tiefling, we don’t need to worry about traveling in the dark!”_

_“How about I just cast Blinding Light to shut you both up!?”_

He’s read through Dustin’s mother’s magazines -- there’s only so many apple pie recipes you can scan before going nuts. He keeps mindlessly scratching at the head of a kitten that keeps jumping into his lap, mewing in a way that makes some part of Billy melt a little. He kind of hates the cat for making him feel like that.

He’s walked around looking at family photos and weird knick-knacks, even slipped into Dustin’s room and peered over his collection of National Geographic magazines, his space posters, his 500-piece puzzles. There’s a bed sheet covering something and when he looks under it he’s faced with a tank that might’ve held a lizard at one point, only now there’s a huge hole in it, like whatever was inside busted out. He drops the corner of the sheet back down and leaves the room.

So now he’s sitting on the steps, body hunched down into his folded arms, watching a trail of ants and thinking about bailing. Lately he’s _always_ considering bailing.

He’s sick of feeling anxious, itchy like he can’t get used to his skin after feeling it against Steve’s. He wants to punch something, wants to _fuck_ something.

Truth is, he’s never felt so whipped in his life, and he hadn’t even gotten off with the kid.

 _Bullshit._ The word echoes in his mind -- in Steve’s voice of course, and it doesn’t stop.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

He thinks about the one time he went to a counselor, right after his mom passed and the woman with the too-big ears and too-chunky jewelry told him to write down something positive in a journal every day. At the time, as a young child, he thought it was the most ridiculous advice he'd ever heard.

 _Today I didn't feel like catapulting into the sun,_ he thinks sarcastically.

The screen door pushes open and Billy doesn’t look, is expecting it to be Steve -- is always expecting it to be Steve, he _wants_ it to be Steve.

But it’s not, it’s the weird girl -- Jane. He’d eventually figured out her name.

She sits next to him and doesn’t seem bothered by the smoke. He blinks at her. She blinks back, an unspoken _hello._

“Language.” She says simply and casts her eyes to the sky, exhaling a long breath.

“What?”

“Bodies.” Her monosyllabic crap drives Billy insane, knows she can form full sentences cause he’s heard her talking to Mike and Max in length, but with him she’s always very one-note.

He understands though, always manages to pick up on what she’s going for.

_Body Language._

“You and Steve.” She says, eyes sliding over to him, tone suggesting she’s prompting Billy to just _take it from there_ , like he’ll start rattling off a bunch of facts.

How Steve had told Billy about his dreams but still hadn’t fleshed out the details and it was fucking killing him.

How Billy’s counted the moles on Steve’s face -- multiple times, his neck, his arms and chest when he has the skin available to see at school or at the pool. How he's too scared to look further down anymore and take a peek at Steve's dick and the moles scattered on his hips and legs. How he wanted to count them _all,_ place his fingers on them and map the continent of Steve's body like he'll find treasure somewhere.

How Steve had _tasted_ \-- freedom and terror and newness and how Billy wanted a second round. Third and fourth like a selfish kid begging for cake.

“Okay, me and Steve.” He says. “What about us pipsqueak?”

She’s quiet, waiting, expectant.

He huffs and looks away from her reading eyes. “We’re friends?” It’s a question, thinks maybe _she’ll_ tell him something he doesn't know.

She nods at this, her small hands tightening where they’re gripping her knees. “Yes. Scared.”

He doesn’t know if she means that Steve’s scared or if she’s talking about him.

“Don’t hurt him again, okay?” She says, her eyes serious. “Promise?”

And it’s the first time he’s ever felt _seen_ by someone he doesn’t have his dick buried in.

He just nods. “Yeah, kid. Promise.”

She smiles, reaches out and touches his shoulder briefly before getting up and going back inside.

Billy has no idea what to do with any of that.

He goes back into the house and heads towards Dustin’s kitchen. Billy and Steve spend a lot of time in kitchens, open spaces where people can trail in and out of. Billy thinks it’s intentional, somewhere they’ll never truly be alone. It’s a cop-out for the both of them.

Steve’s reading, it’s something for school. He can tell by the pained expression on his face, like it’s a chore.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Billy asks, blurts it out without meaning to.

He’s taking a chance. Steve hasn’t wanted anything to do with him for the last week.

Steve snaps the book shut and tosses it onto the table, defeated. “Sure. I fucking hate English class.”

Billy’s surprised but does his damnedest to act like he isn't. He waits by the door as Steve gets his shoes on and they leave the house. He can feel Jane’s eyes on him as they leave, they burn into the back of his head, asking questions Billy doesn't know the answer to.

They walk side-by-side, past young kids waddling and screaming on a lawn, a man mowing across the street with headphones strapped over his head. He's shaking his hips to the music.

Him and Steve are silent even though Billy’s mind is screaming. _Talk to him, fucking say something!_ The unsaid words rush around him and he feels like he’s suffocating. It chokes him more than the encompassing heat, overpowers all his senses and he thinks he might fall over from the anticipation, just pass out cold and leave Steve to pick up the pieces.

They get halfway around the block before the rain starts. It’s sudden and tremendous, catches them both off guard and Billy and Steve run the rest of the way back under the assault. Steve swears and picks up the pace as they get closer to the house and Billy can’t help but laugh a little.

“Great idea!” Steve says when they’re standing under the gutter outside Dustin’s house, talking loudly over the rain that’s just _shattering_ onto the ground.

“I didn’t fucking know it was going to rain.” Billy says aggressively and Steve cracks a grin, a real one that Billy hasn’t seen since July.

“You look ridiculous.” Steve says, reaching over and touching a strand of Billy’s hair that’s plastered to his face. It’s a move that’s almost too tender to handle.

Billy swallows when he feels the brush of skin and he doesn’t _know_ what possesses him to reach up and grab Steve’s hand.

Maybe it’s because he feels like Steve’s slipping away, he doesn’t have him, not really. Steve isn’t _his_ but. He feels like he’s losing him all the same. The grab, it’s just for _him._ It’s for that brief moment of contact that Billy will think about for the next few days and he feels like he could cry with the emotional weight.

Steve stares into his eyes and Billy can’t help but move closer to him, watch Steve open his mouth and start to say something but then it dies in his throat. He’s waiting to see what Billy does.

“You look ridiculous too.” Billy says, watching water drip from Steve’s hair, trail down his face.

They’re both soaked to the bone and even though it’s humid Steve shivers. His brown eyes are electric and the sound around Billy drowns away with the rain, it becomes a hum as his gaze trails down to Steve’s mouth and he knows what he wants to do.

Steve knows too.

Billy breathes out shakily and Steve’s hand twitches in his hold.

“Billy, the kids are right inside.” Steve says, but he’s not _moving,_ not explicitly saying _no._

It’s just an observation, a reminder that they’re not alone, not _really_.

But what if they were? Would Steve let Billy kiss him? Push him against the side of the house and hold him and taste him again? He thinks about Steve’s tongue and the feel of his hips and his long fingers trailing over Billy's arms.

It’s almost possible but not at all at the same time.

He stares until his eyes feel like they're burning and he _knows._  He feels the pang in his chest like a wrecking ball and the affection bubble underneath that, frothy like champagne.  
  
Billy knows nothing can stop him from wanting Steve Harrington.  
  
That thought's enough to break him. He wonders what it'd be like to wake up next to Steve and smile at him, touch him freely and kiss him when he felt like it.  
  
He blinks and his eyes are wet, feels like he's going to _cry_. Only he's _not_ because he never does in front of other people.

Billy lets his hand go and Steve snatches it away like he’s been burned.

Steve’s eyes fidget from Billy to the front door but he looks like he wants to stay outside, doesn't want to move from the spot they occupy because the spell will be broken. Finally -- _unfortunately --_ he turns and walks into the house, Billy following him after a few seconds go by.

When he tells Max it’s time to go home the kids audibly groan. He just waits for them to get done with their bitching. Jane holds out her fist and Billy complies, fist-bumps her. She smiles tiny, like it’s their secret. She’s not _so_ bad, considering the rest of them drive Billy insane. She doesn’t hassle him to join their weird roleplaying game like Dustin, doesn’t get berated with questions about his hair and his car from _Lucas_ of all people -- and he refuses to answer cause he knows it’s about impressing girls and the kid is into his sister and just _no,_ he’s not going to help him do that. It’s too weird. And then there’s Mike who is always shooting rude comments at him about his general existence. Will stays pretty quiet around Billy, just eyeballs him in a way that makes Billy thinks he’s got dozen of questions to ask and _god, what the fuck has Max been telling these guys?_ He thinks about how Steve had asked Billy to talk to him but like, _what the fuck_ is he supposed to say?

_So you’re queer? Here’s a gift basket, monthly newsletter to follow._

But he can’t ever seem to get the kid alone. Everyone’s always together, attached at the hip, like if one of them wandered off they might lose that person for good.

And they just don’t stop _talking_.

But Jane is quiet and gets to the point when she opens her mouth. Even if it’s cryptic sometimes. Billy likes that, likes _her._ He’s not gonna tell Max that though, is too fond of the image the kids have of him -- like they piss him off but he’ll deal with the noise.

Billy gets Max back home and Neil’s waiting in the living room, pretending to read the paper even though the television’s on.

“How many Sundays are you kids gonna spend out of the house?” He asks, clearly a few beers deep. Whiskey too if his breath is anything to go by.

“It. It’s me. My friends do this thing -- Dungeons and Dragons.” Max tries to tell him.

“ _Boys?_ ” Neil hisses.

“There are girls too! It’s a big group!” Max says, lying through her teeth.

Jane doesn’t play Dungeons and Dragons but she likes to listen and watch. Billy asked her why once and she just shook her head and said, “Already played.” But she sits and offers encouragement and advice, like she already knows how to win before they even start playing.

Neil turns on him. “And what exactly do _you_ do during all this? Ditch and go fuck some hick girl?” He prods at Billy’s chest.

Max comes to his rescue, firm and unyielding. “Billy stays the whole time, _every_ time.”

“Should be around the house, helping me out with repairs.” Neil spits.

Billy doesn’t want to argue, gives up with a sigh and asks, “Would you rather I do that?”

Neil glares. “No, not gonna have some thirteen-year-old running the streets alone. Just fucking watch yourself or I’ll watch it for you.”

And that’s it, he goes back to slouching in his chair and staring fixedly at the television, newspaper forgotten. Neil obviously had nowhere to go with his argument, just wanted an excuse to fight, to get up in Billy’s face. He was _bored._ It’s a tactic Billy has gotten used to.

Max goes to hide in her room, passing her mom in the hall entryway who tries to touch her shoulder and say something but Max shakes her off and slams her door. Neil shouts _Hey!_ from the living room but sinks deeper into his chair like he can’t be bothered to follow-through with what his ominous tone may promise.

Billy slowly creeps past his dad and makes it to his own room. He shuts the door quietly and reminds himself for the um-teenth time since he’s moved to Hawkins, _one more year._ The words are almost meaningless to him now, having thought them so much.

 

_My lungs are full, I know_

_That it’s making me weak_

* * *

 

They _do_ take the kids to the roller rink.

Billy’s actually kind of proud of himself for how well the whole thing worked out. It was two weeks into August and Max’s birthday, not that he’d _remembered_ it, Susan informed him a few days prior and asked if he’d take her to do something fun. She apparently had things to do that she couldn’t get out of.

Billy just wanted to yell _she’s your fucking kid! You take her somewhere,_ but he resisted. He did make a little face about it cause he was still him, still didn’t like doing shit like this but told her he’d do it. She gave him ten dollars and Billy stared at it blankly.

“For the rink, I’m sure there’s snacks and stuff. I want you guys to have a good time.” Her eyes looked sad and Billy wondered how hard up they were that Susan had to work on her daughter’s birthday.

They’d always been poor but Neil was drinking more than Billy had seen in years, and had definitely been slacking on the overtime he used to willingly work.

He told her he’d make sure Max had fun.

But then he really starts _thinking_ about it. Knows Steve will have to be there and maybe, just maybe he can get the kid to calm down a little. Figures it’s his last chance before Steve chocks the whole thing up to some weird fluke and doesn’t talk to Billy for the rest of the time he’s in Hawkins.

Yeah, he knows he’s dramatic.

So the day before Max’s birthday he gets up early and makes pancakes, adds _blueberries_ cause he knows that’s her favorite.

She comes in as he’s finishing up and cleaning the big bowl he’d mixed the batter in. She’s rubbing her eyes and still in her pajamas. Her hair was a mess and she had lines on her face like she’d slept in one position the whole night.

“Are you _cooking?”_ She had asked incredulously.

“It’s known to happen on occasion.” He told her, nodding to the kitchen table where a stack of pancakes was waiting, alongside a plate of bacon. “Dig in.”

She ventures towards the table slowly, sits down and eyes the food like perhaps Billy had slipped something in it. Something gross, maybe a loogie. But when she determines that the food is untainted she looks _delighted_ and immediately goes about fixing herself a plate, smearing peanut butter and squeezing syrup before stuffing her face. Still chewing, she gets up and runs over to the fridge, grabbing the milk out and pouring herself a glass.

When she’s back at the table, he joins her, doesn’t make himself a plate but instead sits and sips his coffee, watching her. Her eyes flick up after a few more bites and meet his.

She stops chewing. “Wha’d’y’wan?” Through a mouthful of pancake. Sprays a little on the table.

He manages not to grimace at her and shrugs. “Nothing, Don’t want anything. I know it’s your birthday tomorrow. What do _you_ want to do?”

She looks at him like he’s absolutely insane. She swallows and gulps at her milk, has a mustache when she pulls the glass away. “I don’t know.” She says it like she hadn’t even thought about it.

Billy thinks that’s _fucking sad._

“How about the roller rink?” He suggests like he hadn’t thought about it a _lot._

“Okay, are you having a stroke? Cause you’re really starting to freak me out.” She says, stabbing another pancake from the plate between them with her fork and getting that one schmeared and syruped up.

“Max, remember what I told you? We’re family, shitbird. Let’s make the best of it.”

“What’s the real reason?” She asks with a chuckle.

“...your mom’s gonna be busy and asked me to do something with you.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head a little. “I thought two people having jobs made money easier.”

Billy shrugged minutely. “Sometimes. Not always. I’m not cheap, ya know.” Winks at her.

Max gags but she’s kidding.

“So, roller rink?” He asks again.

She looks like she might _cry._ But she doesn’t, just grins ear-to-ear and nods earnestly. “That would be really nice.”

That was all it took for the message to spread like wildfire, just like Billy anticipated it would.

Like he said, he’s _impressed_ with himself.

The day of, Billy wears his favorite shirt and his tight jeans, the ones that grab at his curves. He does his hair. Knows he looks good.

When they get to the rink, Steve is already there with the whole gang. There’s a table with balloons tied to the chairs and a plastic tablecloth decorated in party hats. To the left there’s that smell of hot-dog-pizza-french-fries from the concession stand and to the right the smell of other people’s sweat from the lockers where people are swapping shoes for skates. The place is _packed_ , it’s almost as noisy as the arcade had been. Billy’s anxiety hikes up a bit. He doesn’t _like_ crowds. He feels like he needs to put on a show when there’s this many people around but that’s a bit of stretch -- he feels like he has to put on a show in front of _everyone._ He breathes and reminds himself this isn’t about him, it’s about Max. Starts chanting this in his head as they join the kids.

Steve’s wearing a shirt Billy’s seen him in a million times, and baggy jeans.

Oh.

So maybe Billy had overdone it. He feels a little silly. They’re at a roller rink and he’s all dressed up.

“Hello.” Jane says warmly, smiling at Max and Billy equally. Billy wants to hug her.

Steve gets up and wraps an arm around Max’s head, pulls her against him for a second and says, “Happy birthday, zoomer.”

“Finally!” Mike exclaims, annoyance clear on his face and any good feelings he has towards kids vanishes.

“Jesus, did you guys _walk_ here, let’s _go_ , Max!” Dustin shouts and they all trample away together, not even to the large round counter-top to rent skates, they run to the pitiful trio of arcade games the roller rink has shoved in the corner, all grappling for the joystick at _Galaga_.

“Christ, fucking _nerds._ ” Billy comments.

Steve snorts, looks over at Billy and offers him a tired smile. Wow, he must be in a good mood.

“I got an ice cream cake for Max.” Steve says, like Billy _asked._

The DJ at the booth at one end of the rink announces he’s going to _slow it down for this next one_ and the main lights dim, colored ones trailing over the floor and illuminating the folks skating, disco balls sending twinkles of light every which way.

He doesn’t know if he should take a seat -- well, he _knows_ he should sit the fuck down but doesn’t know if _Steve_ wants him to. There’s a small stack of gifts at one end of the table and an employee wearing an awful black and white striped shirt -- like a goddamn referee -- is coming towards their table with two pizzas and paper plates. She’s snapping gum and obviously high as a kite as she plants the pizzas on the table, doesn’t even say anything before turning and walking away.

Billy finally sits, as if the pizza was a sign that it was okay.

Steve is leaning back on his chair, balancing wobbly and holding his fingers hooked under the table, bunching up the tablecloth. He’s staring at the pizza but Billy knows he wants to look up, wants to look at _him_ but he doesn’t.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Steve blurts out, falling forward in his chair till it’s back on the ground.

“What?” Billy clenches, muscles tightening. He turns his head away and pretends to be checking on the kids, as if they’d be anywhere else.

He doesn’t _have_ to ask what. He _knows_ what.

“Billy.” Steve says.

Regrettably, he looks at Steve and anticipates the rejection.

“Everything. All of it. I don’t want to talk about it today. But soon.”

Fuck this kid. Fuck him for knowing what Billy was thinking. He liked being a wild card, liked it better when Steve was underneath him, bloody and scared.

Okay, not really but Billy’s still fucking peeved.

He doesn’t respond or make any indication that he heard Steve but he obviously did.

Billy takes some pizza and listens to Sheriff’s _When I’m With You_ as couples skate by with clasped hands. He shoves sausage and pepperoni in his mouth, licking the grease from his fingers and stealing another glance towards the kids in the corner. He can tell they’re getting tired of _Galaga_ and knows they’ll be back over soon.

He sees light reflect off something in Steve’s hand.

It’s a goddamn _flask._

“You holding out on me, Harrington?” He says and stretches out his hand as Steve tips his head back to take a drink.

Steve hands it to him and Billy drinks, enjoys the burn of vodka rushing down his throat.

“Thank god.” He says once he swallows, handing the flask back.

“Gotta get through this somehow.” Steve mutters. “I hate birthday parties.”

Billy thinks about Neil forgetting his birthdays as a kid, the ones Neil remembered as he got older and slapping a carton of cigarettes against his chest with a curt _here_ before breezing by him without another word.

He’s nodding, has been for a few seconds. “Yeah, I hate ‘em too.”

But a rich kid like Steve? He probably got every single thing he asked for and had tons of friends over for every birthday he ever had. Billy wonders why he hates them.

Everyone’s trailing back over to the table so Billy shuts his trap. Lucas and Max walk over a bit slower and Billy can see Lucas slip her a small package wrapped in newspaper, sees Max’s face turn pink. Billy thinks about teasing them but truthfully he’d rather spend his time trying to snag another drink from Steve’s flask.

The kids quickly eat a slice each, too excited to get out on the rink to focus on filling their stomachs.

They’re are all _stoked_ to be there and push their feet into skates once they’re rented with a buzz of excitement bubbling around them. Dustin wobbles a bit but catches himself and pretty soon he’s zooming around with the rest of them. Max is the best though -- being a skateboarder and all. She does tricks, jumps and spins and moonwalks backwards. The kids cheer her on. Mike is off to the side with Jane, she’s got one hand gripping at the carpeted wall and one hand in Mike’s. He’s talking softly to her, manages to convince her to give him her other hand and he’s skating back while pulling her forward.

It’s goddamn cavity-inducing.

Billy takes his time lacing up his skates. Steve never rented any.

“You coming?” Billy asks him.

Steve shakes his head, “Don’t know how,” he says.

“What? You can’t _skate?_ ” And for a moment Billy wants to convince him, maybe talk softly like Mike had, but he doesn’t cause that’d be ridiculous and Steve would never go for it.

“Nope.” Steve says, popping the word between his lips.

Billy thinks about hanging back and talking more, but Max is shouting from the floor, shouting at him to get the _fuck_ out there already.

“Hey! Language shithead!” He shouts back and she shoots him the middle finger. He walks stiffly to the floor before fluidly skating forward, joining her in her acrobatics.

He skates alongside Max for a little bit before leaving her to the group, skates around on his own and remembers how much _fun_ he had doing this out in California. He watches a couple teens grip the wooden railings as they try to maneuver around, knows for a fact they’ll get splinters in the palm of their hands.

Jane zips by him and he almost stumbles.

“Hey! How the hell are you managing _that_ all of the sudden?” He shouts after her.

“Won’t fall!” She shouts back, turning to look at him before seamlessly spinning back around.

Kids a goddamn wizard, he swears.

Someone comes out on the rink with a stick for limbo and Billy resigns back to the table with Steve. They watch, making bets as each kid tries to do it, taking shots when they get one right, taking shots when they get one wrong -- an excuse to talk and drink. Billy’s thankful it’s working. When he fishes out his pack of cigarettes and lights one up Steve doesn’t ask for one, just takes out his own pack and does the same thing. Billy doesn’t comment on it but it feels a little like that part of their...thing or whatever is gone now, Steve asking him for cigarettes has been replaced by him buying his own.

One by one the kids skate back as they lose, Mike first followed by his brother Will, Dustin is surprisingly limber but doesn’t last past the third round, then Lucas, Max after that. More and more kids fail as the stick is lowered but Jane beats it every time and all the kids at the table keep calling her a cheater. They laugh as if it’s an inside joke. Billy doesn’t get it.

After the kids grow tired of skating they mess with the claw machine near the entrance, all trying to win the same dumb-looking stuffed dinosaur. Billy keeps giving Max quarters when she runs back to him after each failed attempt. The cake is finally brought out and the flask is unfortunately empty. The kids sing happy birthday, a few strangers joining in. Billy and Jane don’t sing, Billy because he doesn’t feel like it but he doesn’t know about Jane, she looks like she’s confused.

Billy cuts the cake and dispenses pieces. Steve doesn’t eat any, looks like he could fall asleep where he sits and Billy almost tells him to go crash in his Camaro, he’ll take care of it, but _god no_ he doesn’t want to be stuck with these dorks by himself.

Max opens her gifts but not the one Lucas had given her in semi-private and Billy knows she’ll open it in her room, alone. Dustin gives her a _book_ of all things but he can’t tell what it is, doesn’t have time to read it before she’s leafing through it, cover down on the table and blocking the title.

Parents start filing in, calling to the kids and telling them it’s time to go. Mrs. Wheeler, _Karen,_  Billy’s mind supplies, she comes in and smiles sinfully at Billy, eyes drinking him in and he gives her a charming _hello_ before pretending to busy himself by gathering Max’s gifts and cleaning up the plates.

Fuck it, at least someone appreciates how good he looks.

The second she’s gone he drops the nonchalant look on his face and sits back down. Steve’s gazing at him bizarrely like he wants to ask what that was all about but he doesn’t.

He leaves once the kids are all gone, hugging Max again and giving Billy a nod.

“Always a pleasure!” Billy shouts after him, rolls his eyes and looks back to Max who is eyeing him curiously.

“You guys work your shit out?” She asks, brave cause she’s buzzed on sugar.

“Just get your gifts, Max.” He snaps at her.

He leaves to go wait in his car.

 

_It’s you that I need_

_To stop me from going too deep_

* * *

 

Billy thinks about the night at the Byers house _a lot._ He replays it in his mind, up until the memory goes black, syringe in his hand and a bat of nails between his thighs, muttering _I understand. I_ **_understand_** _._

He stares at the broken headlight on his Camaro that he _still_ hasn’t fixed -- doesn’t have the money, and scratches his head with his thumb, pointer fingers facing out and pinching the cigarette he’s smoking.

He thinks about how Steve had gotten a few decent shots in before Billy had grabbed that fucking plate, something he’d learned from _Neil,_ use what’s available to you, break things, get messy.

He squints and thinks of Jonathan and Joyce coming in, waking up to an otherwise empty house, and Jonathan Byers of all people having to drive him home.

He thinks about how Jonathan had to help him outside, one of Billy’s arms swung over his shoulder, maneuvering him each step of the way as Billy mutters, _“Wh’res th...car?”_

He thinks about Joyce saying _“Just get him home, Jonathan. Don’t_ **_tell_ ** _him.”_ He _remembers_ that.

He thinks about his face pressed against cool glass, hot breath fogging it up with each puff. Jonathan was playing Bowie in his car, he was _speeding_ , thinks about how Jonathan keeps mumbling, _“Billy, you got jumped, okay? You got jumped and they took your car. I called the police. Hopper’s going to find it.”_

It’s a lie. It’s a _story._ But when Jonathan Byers drags Billy into his house and a very angry Neil and a very worried Susan start shouting questions, Jonathan is the one that answers them.

Billy remembers it in snippets.

“ -- the fuck is my step-daughter? Who the hell are you?”

“ -- kids were at my...we got home late and they’d already…”

“ -- is he drunk? What fucking mess did he -- ”

“ -- Billy was outside on the ground...three guys...car gone…”

Jonathan says the kids were found safely playing in the woods and Chief Jim Hopper is bringing them home, says he’s got an APB out on Billy’s car, says not to _worry._

For once, for the first time in his _life,_ Billy doesn’t get hassled by Neil.

Billy thinks it’s cause the car was his mothers and Neil is as sad about it’s disappearance as he is. Might also be because Neil must recognize the name _Byers_ , knows the family’s been having a hard time with their once-lost-now-found son.

But yeah, where the _fuck_ is his car?

Then he’s in bed, still dressed and wearing his shoes, blood drying on his face and sticky in his mouth.

And that’s how he wakes up the next morning, Max home and safely tucked in bed and his car parked haphazardly along the side of the road, busted headlight and scratches in the paint like it’d hit a sign or two.

Billy wants to be pissed off, only he never asks questions about what happened in the aftermath of that evening.

But he thinks about it.

 

_This house is_

_Oh_

_So quiet when you’re not around_

* * *

 

Of all places Billy expected to talk to Will Byers, it wasn’t outside of school.

He was in the middle of fighting two guys at once. They had passed him while he was sitting waiting for Max and started shouting snide comments about his hair and his jeans and clearly didn’t know how much fucking trouble they were getting themselves into. Billy started by punching the ugly one in the mouth. The kid stumbled back and swore, grabbing at his rat face. His friend, ginger and meaty, tried to charge at Billy but he stepped to the side and tripped him, sending the kid tumbling, grubby hands coming out to meet the front of Billy’s car. It only pissed Billy off more that he was touching his Camaro.

Rat Face had an extra second while this was happening and grabbed for Billy’s arms, ignoring the blood running down his mouth and holding Billy tight while Ginger regained his composure and whirled around, bringing his whole fist into Billy’s stomach, other fist not far behind that one and hitting him again.

It knocked the wind out of Billy but he threw his head back, colliding with Rat Face’s nose and Billy reveled in the fact that this kids face would be fucked up for a few weeks. Rat Face let him go and Billy lunged at Ginger but they must’ve realized it was a lost cause because they were retreating, shouting as they ran away, calling Billy a fag.

Billy spit, wiping his mouth with the corner of his sleeve. He breathed heavily and realized a few feet away Will Byers was staring at him with wide eyes. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder and was clutching something in his hand, it was one of those plastic figurines from their game, a monster with two heads and a tail. He was clutching it so hard Billy figured it was digging into his hand.

For some reason he approached Billy who was watching him with equally wide eyes.

“You alright?” Will asked.

Billy snorted. “Of fucking course. Couple of meatheads, no big deal.”

Will nodded. “I’m waiting for Jonathan.” He said, “We’re going to the art store.”

“I’ll make a note in my diary.” Billy told him, reaching for his cigarettes.

“Kids call me a fag too.” Will said.

Billy froze, lighter up to his face but not stricken.

“Am I normal?” Will asked in a small voice. Billy could swear it was shaking.

Billy lit the cigarette and pocketed his lighter. He stared at Will for too long, made the kid squirm under his gaze.

“You’re not a freak.” Billy said. “Despite the things I’ve heard about ya, _zombie boy_.”

Will’s face fell, disappointment shrouding his curious expression. “Oh.”

“No, look, that’s not what I meant. Listen. Jesus. I’m not great with this kind of shit, okay?” Billy rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before throwing his hands out. “You’re normal. Other people are assholes. It’s gonna be okay. It might not seem like it, might not be okay for a long time but it’ll work itself out.” _It has to._ He left that part out. He wasn’t that much older than the kid and for all he knew, it _wouldn’t_ get any better. Wasn’t like he was the picture of stability.

Will mulled this over before his face morphed into something akin to comfort. Billy could tell his smile still held some apprehension. It shone through too much teeth. “Will I get beat up?” He asked, abrasive and inquisitive.

Billy frowned, brows drawing down and he thought about this, taking in Will’s thin frame, lack of muscles, innocent face.

 _Probably a whole fucking lot. “_ If anyone messes with you, come find me.” Billy tells him. Doesn’t know where it comes from, some nagging in his stomach that orders him to act on the situation.

Will takes that in and nods after a second. “You’re not as much of an asshole as Max says you are.” Spoken casually, like an afterthought.

“Eh, she’s not exaggerating. Don’t cross me kid.” He says with a smile.

“Will!” They both look over and Jonathan’s standing across the parking lot, staring at Billy with an interested look on his face.

“Thanks!” Will says, looking at Billy briefly before turning and running to his brother.

Billy doesn’t know why he feels good about himself, like a _hero_ or something. He’s not someone to look up to. Kinda hopes Will knows that.

 

_Sometimes I find it hard to rely on yourself_

_Sometimes I find it hard to rely on anybody_

* * *

 

Billy sleeps like the dead. Needs one of those obnoxious twin-bell alarm clocks that rings and rings until he physically gets out of bed to shut off the damn thing. He puts it out of reach on his dresser for that very reason, so he’s alert, doesn’t fall back into bed and close his eyes. Neil used to kick his ass all the time for missing school and he eventually got the picture.

But he still sleeps like a rock.

Except for the Thursday night after Max’s birthday when there’s this small _ting ting ting_ at his window. He’s alert, eyes snapping open immediately, like he’s been waiting for the interruption in his REM cycle, knew this would happen. He most certainly did not.

Bleary-eyed, he looks towards the sound, sees Steve standing there with half-lidded eyes, swaying a little like he can’t stand properly.

Billy sits up, gets his feet on the ground and squints at the clock. _Ten after three._ Harrington’s gotta have a death wish.

Grumbling, Billy goes to the window and opens it and can immediately tell Steve is drunk, fucking _wasted._ His eyes are bloodshot and he’s wearing pajamas.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Billy hisses.

“Look, I--”

“Keep your _voice_ down.” Billy warns, can’t imagine the shit he’d be in if Neil came in and saw a _boy_ at his window.

“I can talk now, wanna talk _now.”_ Steve insists, gets a hand on the window and moves forward like he’s going to _climb inside._

Billy stands closer to it as if to block his path. “Whoa there, buddy. I’ll come outside, just fucking _wait right there._ Lemme put a shirt on. _”_

“You don’t have to.” Steve shrugs and Billy wants to whip his alarm clock at Steve.

After pulling on a shirt he creeps through the quiet house, hates the fact that the floorboards groan with every step and prays that Neil is out cold. He gets outside through the back door and goes around the house to where Steve is sitting under his window.

“Dude, the hell are you doing here?” Billy asks, standing over Steve and giving him his best mom-glare.

“Talk, I wanna talk to you.” Steve hiccups, covers his mouth as if the sound would set Billy off.

“Now?” He asks moodily.

“You’re _crabby.”_ Steve says, pointing an accusing finger at Billy.

“It’s three in the morning!” He whisper-shouts.

“It’s beautiful out!” Steve insists, as if that should allow him clearance to be at Billy’s window in the middle of the night.

Steve plants his hands on the ground and struggles to stand. Billy wants to help him but Steve’s drunk and he’s got a suspicious feeling that touching him would be _bad,_ would lead to things he doesn’t want.

Not like this.

Steve gets to his feet and holds his hands out as if to make sure he’ll stay up. “I’m freaking out.” He finally says with a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, I picked up on that.”

“I’m _sorry.”_  Steve says, leaning back against the house and putting his head in his hands.

“Steve, how did you get here?” Billy asks impatiently.

Steve looks to the side, sways forward closer to Billy. “Um, I have a car?” As if Billy forgot.

“You _drove_ here like this?” Billy hisses angrily. “Are you _stupid?_ ”

Steve’s face falls, his tone cross. “Shuddup, bet you’ve driven drunk plenty of times. Is not that far.”

Billy weighs his options. He could drive Steve and his car back home and, _what?_ Sleep there? No. Walk back? Hell no.

Steve could stay here? _Absolutely not._ Neil would flip out if he saw that car in the morning before going to work. Would demand to know why someone like _Steve Harrington_ was hanging out with him, like it was a goddamn sin. Billy couldn’t even imagine what would happen if he found Steve in his bed.

Plus Billy had summer classes in the morning.

“Shit shit shit.” Billy chants under his breath.

“I wanna sleep with you.” Steve says, and he’s _whining_ like a child.

Billy shifts at his words, from foot to foot like he’s debating it. He’s not. “Steve, you can’t stay here, you _can’t.”_ Billy insists.

“No, I want to...I want you to _fuck_ me.” Steve says. “I wanna have sex.”

Billy gapes at him for a moment and his barely-awake heart drops into his stomach, churns there for a minute and he feels like he might throw-up. He finally manages to open his mouth. “Steve. We kissed and you didn’t talk to me for _weeks._ I think if we had sex you’d transfer schools.”

Steve snorts, “Would not.” He’s insistent in a way that a child is, he knows he’s wrong but refuses to admit to it and his only way of defense is to be stubborn.

“Steve, you’re hammered and acting ridiculous. I gotta get you back home, okay?”

Steve clicks his tongue and folds his arms over his chest. “No, I don’t want to go home. It’s _boring.”_

Billy rolls his eyes and moves toward him, taking Steve by the arm and getting him around the house and back to the car which is parked in the middle of the goddamn road. The driver door is _open_.

“Jesus christ, Steve.” Billy mutters and Steve asks _what?_ ** _what?_**  but Billy doesn’t reply.

He gets Steve into the passenger seat and finds Steve’s keys still in the ignition. He sighs, annoyed, but doesn’t comment on it. When he starts the car the radio is on and _blaring_. Billy jumps and turns it down quick.

He drives and Steve is lolling his head back and forth, groaning a little. Billy thinks he’s going to throw up. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t know what to say to Steve when he’s like this, out of his mind and declaring that he wants to have sex.

It’s all too much.

He pulls into Steve’s driveway and cuts the engine. Steve pushes open his door and falls out onto the driveway. Billy lets his head fall back on the seat and sighs again, knowing this is going to be a pain in the ass.

But he gets out and goes around the car to get Steve back on his feet. He helps him into the house. It’s hot inside, like the air hasn’t been on. There is no sound, no movement and for a moment Billy feels tremendously _bad_ for Steve. He’d go insane if he was alone all the time.

“Where are your parents?” Billy asks.

“Gone, work. Who cares?” Steve’s attitude has gone from happy-whiny drunk to annoyed-cold drunk.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Billy says, pulling Steve further into the house. It’s nice having that weight against him, it’s almost familiar. He tries not to think about it.

Billy realizes that despite having been to Steve’s house a handful of times, he has no idea where his room is.

“Uh…” Billy trails off.

Steve, despite being drunk, seems to understand the pause. “Is upstairs, go up.”

Slowly they go up the stairs together, Steve nearly trips but Billy’s got a hand on him and guides him. There’s one room with a light on and Billy assumes it’s his bedroom.

Steve Harrington’s room is not homey. It’s a room someone happens to sleep in. He’s got a nice radio, plaid wallpaper and curtains with the same pattern. His closet is open and reveals laundry laying on the ground, nothing hung up. His bed is huge, two of Billy’s put together but it’s not made, blankets are all rumpled in a ball at the end and his pillows are knocked to the ground. There’s a poster of a girl in a swimsuit on the wall, another of a nice car, but it’s pretty bare aside from that.

There’s an empty bottle of vodka on it’s side at the foot of Steve’s bed. There’s an empty bottle of gin on the nightstand.

There’s empty bottles _everywhere._

Billy decides to ask about it another time.

That bat, that fucking _bat_ is right next to Steve’s bed, propped against the wall. Billy’s mouth dries at the sight of it.

He doesn’t know why. It’s not like Steve’s going to swing at him.

But Steve _does_ swing at him. Once they get inside, Steve turns on him and wallops him in the face. Billy lets out a shout and grabs at his cheek, shocked. He looks at Steve in disbelief and there’s anger in the pit of his stomach. But he doesn’t punch back, just shoves Steve _hard_ and the kid falls back onto his bed.

“What the fuck, Harrington?” He shouts.

“You’re such an _asshole.”_ Steve says but doesn’t move from where he lays. “Fucking hate you.”

“Jesus, I am _really_ over people hitting me this week.” Billy says even though Steve has no idea what he means. “I think you busted a _tooth.”_ He’s being overly-dramatic but puts a finger in his mouth as if examining and makes a pained expression.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Steve says, sitting up and reaching out like he wants to help. Actually sounds apologetic.

“Steve, just go to bed, okay?” He walks around Steve’s room, searching through the bottles, hoping to find one that’s not empty to numb some of the pain.

“What’re you looking for?” Steve asks.

“Booze cause someone decided to punch me and it fucking _hurts.”_ Billy snaps at him.

“Oh. I drank it all.” He falls back onto the bed and grabs at his head like the movement made him dizzy.

“Yes I can see that.” Billy deadpans.

“There’s more. Liquor cabinet. Somewhere downstairs.” Steve says, waves a hand in the air as if _that_ helps.

“Why’d you fucking _punch_ me?” He's curious, though he knows there's no point reasoning with someone who is drunk.

Steve huffs. “Cause I’m mad. And scared. And _mad._ I’m not supposed ta’...we _can’t…”_

Billy sniffs, irritated. “Well you sure as shit asked me to fuck you, like, ten minutes ago. Maybe figure out where you’re at before pulling me into your bullshit, alright?”

“Stop yelling at me!” Steve shouts.

“I’m literally not even yelling.” Billy says as evenly as possible but shuts up anyways, kicking an empty bottle of whiskey across the floor.

“Billy, do you hate me?” Steve asks timidly, rolling onto his side and holding his stomach.

“Well I’m not that fond of you right now, pretty boy.”

That makes Steve smile. “You still think I’m pretty?” He asks, eyes glinting.

Billy ignores this. “Can you undress yourself?” He’s in pajamas but it’s fucking _hot_ in the house and Billy can’t imagine he’d want to sleep in flannel pants.

“Don’t want to.” Steve says with a snobby turn of his head.

“Fuck it, enjoy being drenched in sweat, see if I care!” Billy gives in and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him because he _can’t,_ he can’t deal with this.

He leans back and breathes hard through his nose, realizes he's stuck here till morning.

It doesn’t feel right snooping around Steve’s house for a spare bed so he beelines for the living room, hoping there’s a blanket he can snag somewhere.

But Steve’s couch has fucking _plastic_ on it. Goddamn rich people. There’s no way he can sleep on plastic. He thinks about crashing in the Laz-E-Boy chair but abandons that thought as quickly as it forms.

He sucks on his bottom lip and turns back, jogging up the stairs and standing outside Steve’s room, contemplates going in.

He does. He turns the knob and pushes the door open. Steve’s not asleep, but he’s getting there, eyes drooping and mouth getting more and more slack. The light’s still on.

Billy flicks it off and is quiet as he creeps forward, fidgets because he’s nervous, doesn’t want to _do_ this.

Muttering a quiet _fuck,_  he slips into the bed next to Steve, laying as far away from him as possible and facing the opposite way. He reaches an arm down and grabs a pillow that’s on the ground.

He’s imagined being in Steve’s bed before, but the circumstances were different, there was less clothing.

Billy shuts his eyes tight and hopes sleep comes quick.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of shit I've researched for this fic is ridiculous.
> 
> I hope it's enjoyable? I've had a heck of good time writing it so far.
> 
> My boys are broken and bitter and desperate for love.
> 
> Thoughts? Feed me with comments, I need to know what you're thinking.
> 
> Lyrics throughout are from Lungs by Still Weeks.
> 
> Songs mentioned are:  
> rock! rock! till you drop -- def leppard  
> nervous shakedown -- ac/dc  
> what's your name -- depeche mode  
> when i'm with you -- sheriff  
> you shook me all night long -- ac/dc  
> rebel yell -- billy idol
> 
> oh and come visit me on tumblr for some truly crap blogging: valkyrie0cain.tumblr.com


	3. SEPTEMBER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so damn long but I couldn't figure out where to cut it off so here, have 12k.  
> Thank you SO MUCH to my lovely beta lucybrown45 on Tumblr for helping me so much with this fic!

_I see you watching me_

_Eyes on your target_

_Mix drinks and smoke rings_

_It's already started_

* * *

 

_(August, the morning after)_

He can hear birds tweeting and once he cracks an eye open, he can see sunlight pouring through curtains. Everything is soft and cozy and _different._ Billy wakes to an unfamiliar room. It becomes apparent seconds later, he remembers where he is and who is lying next to him.

Steve has his face pressed into Billy’s back, practically smushed in-between his shoulder blades and is curled against him protectively.

It’s _late._  He shouldn’t still be sleeping. His dad is going to _kill_ him for missing class. Even if the school doesn’t call his house, his dad will see his car in the driveway, see that Billy isn’t in his room. He’s _fucked_.

“Shit.” He mutters and moves, turning over to prod Steve awake.

“No no no.” Steve is mumbling before Billy can get a finger on him, shifts and tilts because Billy’s not there anymore until his face is pressed into the sheets, head touching Billy’s shoulder.

Billy didn’t get much sleep. Steve had tossed and turned all night. He spoke in gibberish, at one point Billy had watched him open his eyes wide and look around, panicked and shaking, but he knew Steve wasn’t actually _seeing_. He was having more nightmares.

Billy _could’ve_ woken him up, but wasn’t feeling particularly chivalrous after Steve had decked him in the face. Plus, he wanted to see what exactly happened to Steve while he was in this state; heavy breathing that reminded Billy of when his dad would beat him and he’d wheeze, trying to get air into his lungs, broken ribs expanding painfully; flailing limbs that reminded him of that night at the Byers, all the shitheads around them throwing punches in the air and tossing finger gestures.

It made Steve seem more...human. Not just the sweet dreamboat everyone thought he was, but a troubled kid with actual _issues_.

Steve’s room was _stifling_. At one point Billy got so hot he tore off his shirt and went over to open a window to allow any sort of breeze to drift through the room. The slightly colder air seemed to calm Steve down and he ceased his movements, finally _resting_.

Billy almost didn’t want to wake him up.

_Almost._

“Steve.” The boy groaned and his hand reached out, an arm flopping over Billy’s chest.

He rolled his eyes. “Steve, wake up.”

“Not _again._ ” Steve slurred, more awake now but still not _totally_ aware.

 _Again?_ Billy thought.

Oh yeah. The _dreams._

Steve shifted closer so his head was lying partly on Billy’s chest. He sighed, seemingly content and turned his face against the skin of Billy’s collarbone, mouth slightly open. Billy couldn’t help the grin that stretched over his face at the motion, wanted to pull Steve closer and go back to bed.

Steve moved again, closer and closer. He stretched a leg over Billy’s hip, slow and minuscule movements. Billy let him do it. He could feel Steve’s dick, stiff and hot through his stuffy flannel pants. Billy, in just his boxers, could feel every breath Steve took, every tiny squirm of his body through the white shirt that clung to Steve’s body.

Billy was hard too and he ached to reach down -- or move Steve’s hand and press it against the heat, give himself a little relief.

“Don’t go.” Steve begged, his mouth brushing over Billy’s skin, leaving heat in its path. “Not yet.”

“You’re _extremely_ annoying.” Billy said to him despite the fact that his heart rate picked up.

He could feel Steve’s face curl up into a smile. Billy let out a huff. The early afternoon air was thick and hot and it wafted into the room through the open window, cloaking them like a blanket. They were both sticky with sweat and Billy was torn between either pushing Steve away or rolling over, pinning him down and... _fuck_ , the things running through his mind.

Steve’s hand crept down, brushing over his nipples, running down Billy’s abs. His stomach twitched at the contact. Steve’s fingers breached the edge of Billy’s boxers, resting there and he let out a moan that made Billy almost _snap._ Steve’s hips thrust against Billy’s side, each slow grind made Billy’s dick throb. He moaned lightly when Steve’s hand went lower.

Billy glanced down and saw the exact moment when Steve became aware that he _wasn’t dreaming._

His eyes snapped open and he lifted his head a little.

“What the _fuck?”_ Steve hissed, eyes narrowing when he realized he was practically straddling Billy with an erection.

“You’re _so_ friendly in the morning, why can’t you always be like this?” Billy teased with a smile.

Steve unlatched from Billy, scrambling away with a blush blooming on his face but he moved too far and fell back off the bed with a thump and a shout.

Billy sniggered, turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “You okay?”

A hand came up and planted against the mattress, he shakily stood. “What...what the _hell_ are you doing here?” Steve looked down at himself, as if checking to see if he was dressed. He raised his hand and put it against his head, groaning.

So. Hungover as shit.

Billy scoffed, offended, “Do you remember _anything_ about last night?”

“Uh...no.” Steve said, turning to glance around his room, like it would hold answers. He looked back at Billy. “What happened to your face?”

“ _Wow_ , alright. Last night you _drove_ to my house, fucking _wasted_ and asked me to fuck you.”

Steve’s eyes widened, Billy could tell the gears were spinning in his head.

Billy continued. “I had to drive you here and then you _punched_ me in the _face.”_

“What? No...no I…” Steve trailed off, squinting as if trying to remember.

“And _then_ you decided to grope me this morning.” Billy finished, voice ticking up in amusement. “Not good enough to make up for the punch though, might need a little more.”

“Oh shut up.” Steve said, turning away and going over to his dresser. “God, why is it so fucking _hot?”_ Steve grumbled, pulling out cotton shorts.

“You didn’t have the air on.” Billy told him.

“Thanks, captain _obvious.”_

“I miss sleeping Steve.” Billy deadpanned.

“What did I say?” Steve asked. “Last night, what else did I say?”

“You’re an obnoxious drunk, I can tell you that much.”

“Fuck.” Steve said thickly, pushing down his pajama pants and stepping out of them. Billy stared blatantly at his ass and his hands twitched a little.

Steve must’ve been able to feel his eyes cause he pulled up his shorts hastily and turned back to Billy, taking his shirt off and tossing it aside.

“Oh my god, I need water. I need water right _now_.” He moaned, approaching the bed.

Steve’s dick had softened a bit but Billy could still see it outlined through his shorts. Could still _feel it_ against his hip.

He bit his lip, nibbled on it absently and wondered if he should ask what he was starting to get very curious about. “So do you drink like that a lot?” He finally said.

Steve sat down on the edge of his bed, shot Billy a glare. “Don’t fucking pester me about that shit, I don’t need it from _you.”_

“Jesus, fine, fuck you too.” Billy spat angrily even though he’d anticipated the response -- asked for it. He got up from the bed. “Get your shit together, you gotta drive me back home.”

“Yeah, whatever, just...just go wait downstairs.” Steve said, ending on a softer note and looking away from Billy.

Billy grabbed his clothes and tossed his head over his shoulder as he walked out of the room. “Have fun jerking off!”

“Asshole.” Steve shouted before Billy slammed the door behind him.

Billy stormed downstairs before putting his shirt on and sitting on the couch, waiting with his chin in his hands. Honestly, he wanted to jerk off too but he was annoyed, couldn’t stand Steve’s hot and cold shit.

He needed to regroup, focus on his damn _plan_. Stop feeling so _fucking_ responsible for Steve Harrington.

The front door opened. Billy could hear it from the living room. He froze, eyes bulging as a man and woman walked in with suitcases. They were obviously Steve’s parents. Billy could tell Steve had gotten his voluminous hair from his mother, his height from his dad.

“Steven!” The woman shouted up the stairs. “We’re home!”

“Jesus, it’s like an _oven_ in here!” The man said as they both turned into the living room.

They stalled upon seeing Billy.

“Um. Hello.” He said lamely, forced himself to remain neutral as he threw up his hand in a short wave.

“Hi, uh. Are. Are you a friend of Steve’s?” The man asked.

They placed their suitcases on the ground and Billy replied, “Yes, yeah, I’m Billy. I was um. Helping him with some homework. Ya know. Summer school and all that. Uh. Helping him with...math.”

God it was such a lame lie.

He was wearing an old shirt and pajama pants. It was obvious he had spent the night. He didn’t know how to explain that part.

However, it didn’t seem that he needed to. Mrs. Harrington seemed to be satisfied and left the room, probably going to turn the air on. Mr. Harrington walked forward and shook Billy’s hand.

“Good to meet you, thank you for helping our son.”

As if on cue Steve entered the room, eyes pinched up and hair everywhere. He couldn’t be more obviously hungover.

Billy wondered if he was still a little drunk.

“Hi dad, didn’t know you guys were getting back today.” Steve said, eyeing Billy nervously.

Mr. Harrington looked at his son and didn’t reply for a moment. Billy tensed a little.

“Yeah, our flight was changed. Are you _doing_ okay, Steven?”

He sounded concerned. It threw Billy off. It didn’t seem like Steve’s parents were _ever_ home and he had never seen them together, never watched them interact with Steve. He expected more of a brush-off.

“Yeah, yeah dad. Just a late night.” Steve yawned.

“So you guys were studying?” His dad asked.

Steve didn’t miss a beat, followed along with the lie like a pro. “Yeah, Billy’s...in AP classes. He’s helping me out.”

His dad nodded. “Good, that’s good.”

Billy couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little. He was caring, but a bit oblivious.

But at least he _cared_.

Steve’s mother came back into the room, mouth tight. “Steven, why hasn’t the air been on?”

“Um. I just. Forgot.” He stuttered out and Billy resisted the urge to face-palm. “I-I’m sorry guys, I gotta get Billy home now.”

“Aren’t you two supposed to be in school?” His mother asked curiously.

Steve looked at Billy, panic in his eyes.

“Yeah, uh -- it’s some faculty meeting thing, they cancelled classes for the day.” Billy cut in and Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief.

The two seemed satisfied with this. Steve’s father thanked Billy again and the they went to unpack.

“Come on.” Steve said shortly, both words spoken through a gravelly throat.

Billy followed him outside and they got into Steve’s car. “Do you have any cigarettes?” Steve asked anxiously, fingers twitching on the steering wheel.

Billy smiled at him. “Nope.” He couldn’t help but feel amused.

“God, my fucking _head.”_ Steve moaned, turning the engine over. Billy had forgotten that the radio volume was up pretty loud, and when music filled the car Steve winced and grabbed for the knob, turning it off. He let out an annoyed growl and pulled out of the drive.

“They seem nice.” Billy said as Steve drove, glancing over and taking in Steve’s posture and glowering face that suggested he was _beyond_ annoyed.

“Yeah, they’re fine.” Was the curt reply.

“Gonna have to come up with a reason why your room is filled with empty liquor bottles.” Billy mused.

Steve swore. “Shit, oh _shit._ I completely forgot. Shit, I should’ve hid those before we left. Fuck, I hope they don’t go in my room.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Drive fast.”

Steve shot him an annoyed look. “You. You’re _unbelievable_.”

“Mmm, I know. Your dick clocked me in on that this morning.” Billy said, scooting down in his seat a little and hitching a foot up against the glove compartment.

“Can you _not?_ Don’t let _morning wood_ go to your head.”

Billy swiped his tongue at his upper lip and tried to hide a smile, but he couldn’t. “You were talking, ya know. You were _dreaming_ about me, weren’t you?”

Steve blew through a stop sign and Billy barked out a laugh. “Jeez Harrington, hitting a nerve, aren’t I?” He said.

“Fuck you. Fuck. _You._ ”

Billy soured at that. “I didn’t have to drive you home, Harrington. Could’ve made you do that yourself. You could be _dead_ right now.”

Steve was silent for an entire minute at that. Finally, he said, “Yeah, okay. Thank you. For that. I. Clearly didn’t know what I was doing. I was _so fucking drunk_.”

“Yeah, smart move on your part. You’re lucky you didn’t hit a fucking _tree._ Or a _person._ ” Billy continued.

“Yeah, lucky.” Steve said in a way that made it seem like he didn’t think he was very lucky at all.

“What’s your deal, man? Seriously, is it _just_...just this shit?” Billy said, gesturing between the two of them. “Or is it some other bullshit?”

Steve looked out his side window for a brief second before looking back at the road, mouth opening and closing.

“Cause I can, like, disappear, ya know? I don’t...wanna make you feel like this, or whatever.” Billy looked away, stared out the window and couldn’t help but feel awkward.

Didn’t know why he was offering to give Steve space. It was a _nice_ thing to do. And Billy wasn’t nice.

“No, it’s not...it’s not _you_.” Steve told him, turning down Billy’s street. “It’s _not_. Everything’s just...really messy right now. I feel...so fucking on edge.” Steve admitted.

They were both quiet for a moment but Billy felt comfortable stealing a glance at him.

Steve pulled to a stop in front of Billy’s house. “I’m...sorry I punched you, okay? I’m sorry for all the shit I said. I’m not trying to. To _play_ you.”

The kid looked _helpless,_ face sunken and sad.

“I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what _this_ is.” Steve told him, looking at Billy carefully, like he would reveal something with his gaze.

Billy nodded a little. “Okay. That’s fine.” He let out a deep breath and opened the door, one foot planted on the cement before he spoke again. “But don’t count on me. For _anything._ I might not still be around when you figure your shit out.” He said firmly, and got out of the car before Steve could reply.

He walked around the vehicle and didn’t look back as he opened his front door. He knew Steve was sitting there, hadn’t pulled away yet, probably mulling over what Billy had said.

When he shut the door he leaned back against it and let out another deep breath.

“Fuck.” He said thickly before dropping his head.

A voice called from the other room. “Billy?”

 _Shit_. His _dad_.

“Yes sir?” Billy called out.

Neil walked from the kitchen into the living room, his face in a sneer and his eyes ablaze, he crossed the room in three strides and had Billy by his shirt, pushed him up against the door.

“Where the _fuck_ have you been? Who brought you home?”

“Dad, I’m sorry, a friend needed me -- ”

The first hit connected with his cheek, right where Steve had punched him.

He grit his teeth, moving his head with the second swing to lighten the blow in any way he could. Neil didn’t like that. He got a grip on Billy and tossed him over against the wall. His head hit it hard and Billy gasped at the contact.

“You gonna skip out on school for one of your druggie friends?”

Billy tried to talk but his dad wouldn’t let him, delivering another blow to his face. He was wearing a _ring._ It busted the skin of Billy’s lip.

Instinctively his tongue lapped out and he tasted blood.

He shoved Billy again, pushed him further into the living room and Billy’s arm caught the edge of the fireplace and scraped hard. He hissed, knew it’d be bleeding when he got a look at it.

Neil got up in his face. “Don’t you fucking think for a _second_ I don’t know who you hang out with. There’s people all over town I can talk to, got it Billy?”

He eyed his dad. Half of him didn’t believe that shit for a second. The other half was terrified at the implication, at what his dad might _know_.

“You’re lucky I don’t have you on the _fucking ground_ right now, got it? I see _everything_ you fucking _faggot_. Miss school again and you’ll be out for a _week_. I’ll break your arm, Billy. I’ll fucking _break_ it. And you can drive _yourself_ to the hospital, just like last time. Got it?” He was spitting his words at Billy, rage making him shake, fists balled up so hard his knuckles were white.

Billy could feel the tears spilling but he didn’t make a sound. He nodded, his face stinging and head pounding.

Neil rushed past him, shoving him out of the way hard.

Billy collapsed to the ground, pressed himself against the wall for support and breathed through his nose, trying to get a hold of himself.

He just needed to last a little while longer. Then he was _out._

He rose to his feet shakily and slowly made his way to the bathroom.

His face wasn’t pretty. There’d be plenty of bruises. His left eye stung and he knew it’d be black by the next day. His lip was sliced open pretty nice.

He looked through the medicine cabinet but his dad had taken _everything_. Ibuprofen, bandages, peroxide.

“Fucker.” He grit out before heading back into his room.

He fell down onto his bed and for the first time all day realized how _tired_ he still was.

This time, sleep took him easily.

 

_It won't be too long before me and you_

_Are doing what lovers do_

* * *

 

September arrived and school was in session.

Billy had managed to avoid Steve for the rest of August. Basketball was on hold until team tryouts began for the new students and the last few days of summer school had been a blur of studying and SAT prep. Billy buried himself in work, if not only to prove to Neil that he was going to be taking his senior year seriously.

Billy’s face was almost healed by the time the first day of classes rolled around. Even though his dad had hidden all the medical supplies he’d driven to the drugstore the day after the attack and swiped some stuff when the cashier wasn’t looking, sitting in an alley and wiping his face with stinging antiseptic and taking a handful of pain pills, probably more than he needed but he welcomed the numbness.

On the first day of school he drove him and Max into the parking lot and his peace of mind (well, not _peace_ of mind, but his fucking _sanity_ ) was _immediately_ squashed when he saw Steve standing in front of his Beemer, laughing with a group of his so-called _friends_. Tommy and Carol had graduated but there were kids in every grade that fawned after Steve, drifted towards him and his open smile and welcoming face. Of course he’d have friends no matter what. He looked so carefree and happy and Billy almost wanted to back the car up and get the hell out of there.

“Steve!” Max said with glee before opening the door and dropping her skateboard down, getting onto it and rolling away.

He shut the car off and got out, shouting over the top. “Get to class shitbird!”

Max waved a hand dismissively at him and he watched as Max reached the group of teens.

Steve smiled kindly at her before his eyes flicked up to where Billy was still standing.

As if he’d been _caught_ , Billy moved away from his car and headed pointedly into the building.

He thought he heard Steve call after him, but ignored it and got through the double doors as quickly as he could.

The first day of school was always a joke, even the assembly for seniors was just an endless slew of speeches about _committing_ and _college prep_ and _expectations_. Pointless drivel.

Billy stood at the very top of the risers near the exit and itched for a smoke.

Midway through the principal’s speech about homecoming Billy left, couldn’t stand it anymore.

He reached the hall and felt a hand on his shoulder. It startled him and he grabbed it, whirling around and finding Steve in front of him.

“Fuck _off_ , Harrington.” Billy snarled, but his wide eyes gave him away.

He was more scared than annoyed.

“What happened to your face?” Steve looked _worried_ , like he had the fucking right to be.

He looked _nice_ in his new shirt and khakis, Billy wondered if his mom had picked out the clothes, maybe mentioned how the baby blue of his polo brought out Steve’s eyes. He looked so prim and proper. Billy wanted to fuck him up a little, make blood drip onto the shirt. _Ruin_ him.

 _You. You fucking happened. It’s_ **_your_ ** _fault._

He didn’t say this of course.

“Abso-fucking-lutely _nothing._ ” Billy said before turning away and stalking off.

Steve caught up to him, appearing aside Billy and matching his pace. “Look, when we were in my room-- ”

“Steve, finish that sentence and I’ll break your fingers.” Billy growled at him and walked faster.

Steve walked faster too.

Hesitantly, he asked, “So, you’re not mad at me then?”

Billy _seethed_. “I can’t _see_ you right now, okay? Just. Not right fucking now.”

Steve tsked through his teeth. “ _Okay_? But. I kinda need your help, so...”

“Jesus. _What?_!” Billy stopped dead and Steve hadn’t been expecting it, walked an extra step before stopping too.

“Well...my parents, they uh...they think you’re helping me with school and they asked if I was still getting help and I...I didn’t really know what to say to them, so -- ”

Billy’s mouth opened in _shock_. “Oh, oh _fuck_ no, you didn’t tell them I was _tutoring_ you. Harrington, please fucking tell me you didn’t -- ” Steve’s face revealed that he had done that very thing, “ -- fuck _off_ , you told them I was tutoring you? Do you _hate_ me?” Billy was practically shouting even though he knew the seniors would be piling out soon, was grateful the classroom doors around him that _were_ occupied were closed.

“I’m sorry, I’m _really_ sorry.” Steve rushed.

“Just fucking tell them we meet up at school! We don’t actually have to _study_ in _front_ of them.” Billy said incredulously.

“Apparently they think we do.” Steve said. “They offered to pay.”

Billy blanched. “I don’t want your fucking _money_ , Harrington. I really don’t need this right now. My dad’s gonna…” He trailed off, couldn’t really explain that part.

“What if I got a teacher to call him?” Steve asked, like he’d thought about what Billy would say to counter this.

Billy blinked. “What?”

“Like, okay, what if I got a teacher to call and explain that I need the help and that you’re a part of the Tutoring Program, you signed up and they _really_ appreciate it and it’ll look _great_ on your resume, and I’m your first case?”

“More like lost cause.” Billy shot at him.

Steve wrinkled his nose like he was offended but he didn’t say anything to retort. “Please? Will you help me?”

Billy crossed his arms, wanted to say _no_. It would be so easy to say no and storm away.

But Steve’s fucking _eyes._

“I really don’t like you right now.” He said lowly.

Steve let out a breath, mouth in an ‘o’ shape. “ _Thank_ you.” He said gratefully.

“Yeah, fine. Just get the teacher to talk to my dad.” _He’d kill me if I tried to explain this to him._

“I’ll do it today.”

“If my dad says no, it’s a no. Got it?” Billy said, pointing a finger at Steve.

“Got it.” Steve replied quickly before leaving Billy’s side.

The hall doors behind him burst open and Billy jolted. Students were rushing towards him but he didn’t move for a few seconds, mind whirling.

He was so _screwed_.

 

*

 

Neil hadn’t exactly been _excited_ about Billy being involved in the Tutoring Program, but he wasn’t _mad_ about it, so Billy figured it was a win-win.

“Got a call from your school today.” He said over a dinner of steak and potatoes.

“Oh?” It was better to pretend that he didn’t know anything about it, have Neil think it was his idea. Give him the credit. It made things easier.

Neil told him about the call, pointed a fork at Billy. “You better not fuck this up. If that teacher is right, this’ll really help you get into college.”

“I know, dad.” He said mutely.

“Don’t get a fucking attitude with me, kid. You _need_ school. Need to get some sort of future going for yourself. I didn’t raise a quitter or an idiot and you’re gonna fucking prove yourself to me. About time you did that.”

_Like he didn’t just spend most of his summer at school for that very reason. Like he didn’t take Max wherever she wanted. Like he didn’t help Susan out when she asked._

“I think it’s great Billy’s helping, I’m sure it’ll go smoothly.” Susan was trying to deflate Neil, but that was the thing about Billy’s dad: he was always at ten when it came to his anger. Never a two, never a six. Always just boiling at _ten_. A simmering threat.

“It had _better_.” Neil said before stabbing at his steak.

Billy watched as blood oozed out of the piece of meat, pooled on the plate.

 

*

 

The first time Billy sees Jane’s tattoo, he reaches out and grabs her wrist, stops her intention to go for the syrup. They’re at Hopper’s cabin, the kids had been studying and _whining_ about studying -- trying to make excuses to keep the television on.

“Background noise _helps_.” Dustin argues.

It devolves into them watching episodes of _He-Man_ while Steve and Billy sit at the kitchen table, bent over their own books, arguing over details about _A Scarlet Letter_.

Hopper cooks brats and mac n’ cheese, pours the kids glasses of Coke, hands Steve and Billy beers. It’s _cool_ of him.

They eat and Billy watches Jane push around her food, a pout on her face.

Hopper’s watching too.

“Fine, kid, go make your stupid eggos.”

Jane smiles and goes for the freezer.

Once she’s got a plate, she looks around for the syrup. It’s between Billy and Steve.

And that’s when he sees it, **011** etched onto her skin.

“What the _fuck_ is that?” Billy hisses, her wrist in his hand.

Her breath hitches, the vibe in the room changes.

The kids are quiet, staring with glassy eyes -- finally, something that makes them shut up.

Hopper’s on his feet.

Steve is the first to react, reaches out and smacks at Billy’s hand. He lets Jane’s wrist go.

“She’s adopted.” Steve says firmly. “Her old parents were...fucked up.”

“They _tattooed_ her? The fuck?”

“Bad men.” Jane says hollowly, rubs her fingers over the tattoo. “Bad Papa.”

“What does Eleven mean?” Billy asks.

Jane’s hesitant, looks over at Mike who doesn’t _move_ because Billy’s watching him too.

She raises a finger, points to her chest.

“Go. Eat your eggos.” Steve tells her firmly.

Jane takes the syrup and walks away. Hopper sits back down.

“Dude, what the _fuck_.” Billy hisses quietly.

Steve shrugs. “Some parents are fucked up people. Being a parent doesn’t make you a good person.”

Billy looks over at Jane pouring a ridiculous amount of syrup over her waffles. Eleven. Who were the ten before that? His stomach twists uncomfortably.

“Trust me,” Billy says, “I know.”

 

_Clothes on the floor_

_We're exploring our bodies_

_Getting you off is my new favorite hobby_

* * *

 

He hated Steve’s house. Hated the red, double-door in the front and big, open spaces inside and fancy artwork hung up on the walls. Hated the plastic over all the furniture and the fresh flowers in every room.

Hated the way Steve’s mother floated around the kitchen, dolled up and cooking a roast like Billy had seen the women on television do. She sang softly along with the radio pumping out croony love songs and swayed side-to-side with hooded eyes like she was medicated.

But she wasn’t. Steve told him his mom was just _like_ that, just floaty and obtuse. It was why his dad had fallen in love with her. Steve’s mother -- Mary, had met Steve’s dad -- Patrick, in high school and Patrick had fallen in love with her dark eyes and half-smile and witty comebacks to everything he said.

Once Patrick had joined a prestigious insurance company after college, he rallied his wife to join up as his assistance, but she was more than that. They talked in-depth about business decisions and Steve’s father said all the time how imperative his mother was to his work.

It was sickening. Billy wanted to gag when Steve told him all this.

He hated the way Steve’s father sat in his study, voice muffled through the door but clearly talking to someone -- they had _multiple_ phone lines, _fucking_ rich people. He was probably doing very important things and drinking scotch.

But mostly he hated _Steve_.

The nicest thing Billy owned -- other than his car -- was the watch he wore, never took it off because he _couldn’t_. His dad had presented it to him a year back, had told him he had _no excuse_ now for breaking curfew. He loathed the ticking in his ear at night, how it felt like a shackle cuffing him to his dad’s expectations. Sometimes he wanted to whip it out his car window or smash it under his boot.

Steve owned a lot of nice things, probably had watches to _choose_ from.

He stares as the long hand on his watch inches around the face, wonders how long he has to stick around.

They were in Steve’s room of all places -- the room Billy had been mostly naked in two weeks ago. The room where Steve had practically humped him off the bed.

Well. That was a bit of an exaggeration but Billy couldn’t forget about it.

School was a _mess_ \-- tougher subjects, more homework, hours in the library pouring through books and taking extensive notes.

 _And_ he’d been made captain of the basketball team. It came out of nowhere and shocked him to the core. The coach had clapped him on the shoulder and said _Billy you’re our only hope this season_ and Billy was a sucker for compliments, plus it was another thing he could add to his college applications.

He asked Steve if he was jealous. Steve snorted and told him _more power to ya. This team sucks._

Billy kept telling Steve they’d get around to the tutoring, but he was so busy with his own shit that he wildly regretted agreeing to it in the first place. Between AP History kicking his _ass_ and coming up with team plays he didn’t have much time for anything other than sleeping.

Their first actual session was cut short because Steve’s parents were having a party for work associates. Billy couldn’t believe that getting colleagues drunk was more important than their son’s education, but hey -- not his problem.

Steve and Billy had been set up in the living room and after talking about _Frankenstein_ for only twenty minutes they had been asked to vacate. Steve made a face at his dad but Billy told him it was fine. Steve looked like he wanted to fight it, wanted to ask Billy to _stay_ but he let him go.

Finally they were able to try again and now Steve was on his bed in a tank top and shorts, lying on his stomach and looking down at open books, biting at the eraser of his pencil.

Billy sat in a fold-out chair Steve had grabbed from the hall closet, his legs splayed out in front of him. He watched Steve try to figure out Calculus, scrunch his nose up when he couldn’t think of something, scribble an answer and then hastily erase it.

His tank top was loose, Billy could see down it a little if he leaned forward. It made his mouth dry and he kept swallowing. He folded his arms then let them loose, dropping them to his sides, had already been there for an _hour_.

“Math is so _boring_.” Steve said, breaking Billy out of his thoughts.

“It’s supposed to be.” Billy said shortly, picking at his nails.

“You’re not being much of a tutor.” Steve pointed out, giving him a tired look.

Billy shrugged. “I never said I’d actually _help_ you, just that I’d show up.”

“You’re a _horrible_ teacher.”

“God, focus Harrington. Just _try_. I’ll look over your work when it’s done.”

Steve sighed and looked back down at his worksheet, glancing between that and his notebook of frankly _awful_ handwriting.

“I hate this.” Steve said with a pout.

“Wanna go back to Physics?” Billy suggested, leaning back in the chair so it was tipping back and looking up at the ceiling.

“ _No_ , god. I want to stop.” Steve said, shutting his books and rolling over, hands on his stomach.

“Now what kind of tutor would I be if I allowed that?” Billy stared at Steve lying on his bed, feet planted on the blanket and knees bent.

“Oh, _now_ you’re my tutor.” Steve quipped.

Billy let the idea of going over and sliding between those legs flit in and out of his mind.

He had been doing so _well_. Had managed to distract himself whenever thoughts of Steve popped into his mind, would let it crumple up like notebook paper and toss it metaphorically over his shoulder, replace it with song lyrics or a list of errands he had to do -- pathetically small for a seventeen year old in a shitty town: _buy cigarettes, scam someone to get him beer, jerk off._

Was a little harder to shake the thoughts when the kid was right in front of him.

“I can’t stand this.” Steve said suddenly, and it was obviously leading somewhere, most likely somewhere Billy didn’t want to go. “ _Fuck,_ it’s so stupid, but. I’m going insane being in this room with you right now.” Steve sighed, tipped his head back and to the side to look at Billy.

He didn’t know what to _say_ to that. His stomach tightened as he eyed the expanse of Steve’s neck like it was being _presented_ to him.

“We could...go study in the living room?” Billy suggested but _no_ , that was a _horrible_ idea. He liked having Steve all to himself, even though it was a bad _fucking_ idea.

Steve shook his head. “No, I mean. I _like_ it but. It’s just. I’m so fucking.” He couldn’t get the words out. “I keep thinking about what you said before. _Don’t count on me_. What the fuck did you mean by that?”

Billy opened his mouth to reply but Steve cut him off.

“I mean, that made me feel like _shit_ , like you don’t care at all about what any of this is doing to me, and that...that fucking _hurt_. But then I felt stupid, how the fuck would I know what you meant?”

“Steve.” Billy said firmly, making the boy pause his rambling. “This isn’t all me, okay? You’re obviously going through shit you don’t want to tell me about, shit that’s not just about the two of us. You’re cryptic as fuck. And _confusing_. Did you ever stop and wonder what that’s doing to _me_?”

The _two of us_. He hated it, hated the phrase. Felt stupid grouping them together.

He immediately wanted to take back what he’d said. Steve was just...fucking with him. He kept getting close then pulling back. Billy was starting to think that one day Steve would decide he was done dealing with him entirely and do exactly what Billy had wanted to do from the beginning -- look right through him, ignore him as much as he could, pretend everything that had happened _hadn’t._

After taking in what Billy had said a small smile crept onto Steve’s face.

“What?” Billy blurted out.

“I wanted to know if I was still a distraction. And you just answered my question.”

Billy wished he had something to chuck at his face. “You _asshole_.” He spat, face getting hot.

“That was _too easy_ , Mr. AP classes.” Steve said, pleased look on his face.

Billy had the sudden urge to leave but shoved his ego aside. He could play this game too. It was his _specialty_.

“That wasn’t nice, _being in this room with you_.” He mimicked Steve’s tone, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees, hooding his eyes. “Don’t give me any _ideas_ , Harrington.”

Steve laughed, a little unsure, rolling onto his stomach and meeting Billy’s eyes. “Ideas like what?”

Billy shook his head, slow and deliberate. “Nope, uh uh. You _still_ haven’t told me about those dreams you’ve been having. Why would I reveal fant--” He stopped talking, blinked stupidly, realized what had happened a second too late.

Steve pointed an accusing finger at Billy. “Ha! I knew it.” He said, sounding victorious.

Dammit. “I hope you _fail_ Calculus.” Billy said to him, leaning back in the chair again and crossing his arms.

Steve snorted and was quiet for a moment. They could hear the radio playing very softly from downstairs. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you about the dreams, but then you actually _have_ to help me.”

Billy stared at Steve, motionless.

“You’re bullshitting.” He said firmly, not believing the proposal for a second.

“No, I swear.” Steve said, moving till he was sitting up, crossing his legs on the bed. “This way we both get something we _want_. I really need to get through this year and for some fucking reason you’re the smartest kid in our class. Despite being a dumbass.”

Billy flipped a middle finger at him. Steve grinned. “Fine. Tell me and I’ll make you a _huge_ smartie.” He said condescendingly.

Steve looked appeased for a moment, then shrunk a little as a flood of anxiety seemed to wash over him. His eyes flicked away. “Alright, but I can’t look at you when I tell you this shit. It’s fucking _embarrassing.”_

“Oh I am already _loving_ this.” Billy folded his hands together, tips of his thumbs meeting on his chin.

“Whatever, shut up, so...there’s this one where we’re playing basketball and you keep fucking bumping into me like you _always_ do, and it’s _totally_ on purpose and you keep backing me into corners, like, fucking walls just appear and you’re right _there_ and it’s really annoying but you’re just _smiling_ like it’s all a part of your plan and you keep getting closer and closer.”

Billy bit at his thumb nail. “Yeah?” He prompted, egging him on.“There’s one where we’re...not _fighting_ exactly, but we’re wrestling and rolling around and shit...then you’re…” He’s _blushing_ , practically squirming. “Fuck, um, then you’re kind of...on _top_ of me and you won’t let me go and it’s...then you…”

Billy _could_ jump him. He could do it right now. Shove Steve’s books off the bed and get his hands on Steve’s wrists and just hold him there.

Billy’s eyes have never been so wide and unmoving.

“C’mon.” Billy says roughly. “Say it.”

Steve clears his throat. “We’re...doing _stuff_.”

“Details, Steve.” It's a demand but his tone is light, wishes Steve was _looking_ at him while he talked. It’s not even real dirty talk but it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard. And that’s fucking _maddening._

Steve steals a glance at him and huffs but it’s not _really_ a huff, it’s like he’s trying to catch up on his breathing, like he’s affected by this too, like he can’t _believe_ the words coming out of his mouth.

“Fuck, I don’t _know_ , we’re kissing and shit and your...hands are everywhere and you’re biting me and…”

“You into that shit?” Billy asks, wonders just how rough he could be with Steve.

Steve’s face gets redder, ruddy with shame. Or maybe it’s desire.

“I don’t...know.”

“Keep going.” He’s riveted. Fuck, if he could get his dick out without it being totally weird he’d get himself off to every word Steve uttered. Needed to remember it for later when he was alone.

Steve’s legs move together a little, like he’s feeling the arousal too and trying to taper it.

Billy is _this_ close to getting out of his chair and making Steve’s dreams a reality.

“Your...mouth is...there’s this one where you’re... _blowing_ me and I can’t...you won’t let me...um...you know…you just keep teasing me and it’s...fucking irritating as hell and I get so goddamn _hard_ and then I wake up -- ”

That’s it, he can’t _do_ this.

He’s on his feet, takes two steps to the edge of the bed and hikes a knee up.

Then the door behind him is _opening_ and Billy instantly sits down beside Steve like that was his _original_ intention and he sees Mrs. Harrington with a huge smile on he face. “Brought you guys some snacks!”  She holds up a plate of cookies. The plate has a _doily_ on it.

Billy scrabbles for some sort of lame cover-up. “Y-Yeah, so, see right here?” He points down at something random in the book Steve has open. “This is the part of the problem you need to focus on, it’s where you need to start.”

He looks back up at Mrs. Harrington. “Thank you so much by the way, we’re _starving_.”

Steve clears his throat a little, he’s still red in the face. Mrs. Harrington puts the cookies on Steve’s dresser and shuts the door again, leaving them alone.

“Get off.” Steve says wobbly, reaching a hand out and pushing against Billy’s side.

Billy’s eyes drill into Steve’s, he doesn’t _want_ to, doesn’t _want_ to back off. Billy pinches his face up, almost like he’s in pain.

“Thought I was helping you now? My end of the bargain.” He said lowly.

“H-help from over there.” Steve said, pointing at the chair.

“How will I watch you _show your work?_ ” Billy says, eyeing Steve’s mouth. It’s so _close_.

“Billy, stop -- ”

“I don’t think you _want_ me to stop.”

Steve swallows with a click and Billy gets a hand on his shoulder, is pushing him down and Steve’s legs fly out, his face darkening and eyes scanning over Billy’s face as he’s shoved down against the bed.

Billy’s between his thighs, hips putting pressure on Steve’s groin and Steve jerks against him unintentionally, can tell because a gasp follows the movement like he’s _shocked_. He can feel Steve is hard, skin hot to the touch when Billy does exactly what he wants and takes Steve’s wrists in his hands, pins him down.

They’re both breathing so hard and Billy _needs_ this, wants to fuck this kid till he’s screaming.

He shifts his legs open more resulting in Steve opening _his_ legs more, making Steve more vulnerable to him.

“Wait.” Steve says quickly, shifting in Billy’s hold, trying to test the grip on his wrists.

Billy can see goosebumps erupt on Steve’s skin as he squirms, can’t help but rub his dick against Billy when he does it so he has to bite at his lip to muffle the sounds threatening to slip out.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Billy says. “Bet I could get you to tell me every last detail of those dreams.” He whispers, knows the denim of his jeans on Steve’s inner thighs is driving the boy crazy. He can’t stop moving around, like he’s going to get the upper hand.

No fucking chance.

“You gonna finally admit you _like boys_ , Steve?” Billy hisses. Not _you like me_ , because that’s too much -- for either of them to handle.

Steve manages to jerk a hand out of one of Billy’s. He reaches up and grips at Billy’s hair, pulls, drags him closer and Billy thinks _yes, finally_ and Steve bites out a rough _fuck_ , weak like he’s giving up, like he can’t put up anymore of a fight.

Their mouths meet and it’s _harsh_. Billy moans, slots himself against Steve as close as he can get. Steve’s legs tighten around Billy’s hips and his mouth opens, their tongues meeting, slick and teasing. The _heat_ alone is enough to drive him _nuts_ , makes Billy move his hands down to Steve hips, grip them and grind slowly into him.

Steve breaks away with a gasp of air, grits his teeth and lets out a stilted moan.

“Fuck, _stop_ , the door -- it doesn’t _lock_.”

Billy laughs a little, lets his head fall into Steve’s neck, whines lightly like he’s _pleading_. “The one thing your parents _don’t_ buy you is a fucking _lock_?”

“We, we just can’t do this right _now_.”

“But you’re saying we _can_ do this?” Billy asks, sitting up a little and putting his hand on Steve’s face, feeling the heat there, almost caressing him.

It’s too intimate. He thumbs at Steve’s lips, pushes the appendage in the warmth and wet and Steve’s tongue flicks against it for a moment before he grabs at Billy’s hand, wrenches it away.

“ _Fuck_ , get _off_. I can’t.”

Billy lets out an annoyed sigh and moves off of Steve, pressing against his dick through his jeans and chewing on his tongue.

“You’re a fucking tease.” Billy grumbles.

“And you’re a menace.” Steve says, hands moving like he’s going to grab himself too but he doesn’t.

Billy thinks about grabbing it for him. Knows he can’t.

“So, let’s uh, let’s just get back to -- ”

“I gotta go.” Billy says, gets to feet fast.

“What, now? But you haven’t taught me _anything_.” Steve bemoans.

“I’ll do it next time, swear. But I gotta go.” He says, grabs his keys and leaves.

He gets downstairs and Steve’s mom pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Oh, Billy? I thought you were staying for dinner.”

“Can’t, sorry, smells great though. See ya next time!” He rambles and leaves the house.

He gets in his car and tears out of the driveway fast, speeding down the road till he turns down a random street that leads to the edge of the woods. He parks and cuts the engine, doesn’t waste any time unzipping and getting his dick out.

It’s softened a little but he’s hard again in seconds once he starts working himself, pictures Steve under him all breathy and begging, unsure but _wanting_.

Wants Billy to take him apart slowly even though he keeps asking him to _hurry, hurry up_.

He can’t stop thinking about Steve’s lips wrapped around his dick, eyes asking if he’s doing it right and getting a hand in Steve’s hair and _holding_ him there, taking what he wants.

He wonders what Steve would do if he rimmed him, how much he’d move around and tell Billy _no, no that’s_ ** _disgusting_** but then he’d turn to jelly and sag down onto the bed and start pleading for it.

It doesn’t take long for him to get there, and afterwards he rolls his window down and lights up a cigarette, feeling pathetic and warm.

The front of his jeans are wet and gross, knows it’ll get uncomfortable if he doesn’t go home and change soon. He feels _cheap_.

Fucking Harrington.

 

_Lipstick on your neck brands like a tattoo_

_Cause that just how lovers do_

* * *

 

Neil announces that he’s got some convention thing to go to in Iowa. Susan, for some stupid reason, _insists_ on going with. Who the fuck _wants_ to go to _Iowa_? And since when is there a convention for fucking factory workers?

Neil threatens him a few times before he leaves, like he’s making up for the time that he won’t be around. Tells Billy if he throws a party he’ll take his Camaro to the shop and have them strip it for parts. Billy hadn’t planned on throwing one _anyways._

But whatever, he doesn’t let it get him down. He’s going to be free of the parental units for four whole days.

Max is excited too and asks Billy sweetly, _super sweetly_ if she can have everyone over once their parents leave with jackets and suitcases.

“You want to bring them _here?_ ” Billy says with a snort, a beer poised at his lips. He’d cracked it open before their parents were out of the driveway. “Sure, willingly invite people to this shithole, see if I care.”

So that’s why they’re all piled in the kitchen, shouting and telling each other what to do.

When they’d arrived Dustin had asked to see Billy’s room -- Billy tells him to stay the _fuck_ out of it. Max asks him why he’d want to see _Billy’s_ room.

“Gathering data.” Dustin shrugged, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Okay, you’re officially the weirdest one. Was gonna be this fucker -- ” Billy throws a thumb at Mike who yells _hey_ all _offended_ ,  “but congrats, it’s _you_.”

Dustin is quiet for a minute, then, “Do I win something?”

Max drags him away before Billy can cuss him out.

Mike announces that Billy’s house smells. Billy lights a cigarette and blows smoke in his face on purpose.

Will _smiles_ at Billy when he walks past and it’s weird cause kids don’t really _do_ that around him.

Jane gives him a hug and he awkwardly pats her on the head.

Steve makes eye contact and instead of shrinking away like some delicate flower he meets Billy’s gaze head-on. It’d been a few days since the incident in Steve’s room and Steve had slipped away every time Billy approached, kept his distance during basketball which was fucking up the dynamic Billy had developed for the team -- gave him an excuse to bitch Harrington out in front of the other guys.

But now he looked... _sure_ of himself.

Billy followed them all into the kitchen as Mike was setting up his big book and folder of filled notebook paper.

“Where’s Lucas?” Max asks with sad eyes.

“Grounded. Melted Erica’s Barbie’s.” Dustin tells her.

“Aw, that’s such horseshit!” Max says and Billy doesn’t have it in him to tell her to watch her mouth. Fuck it.

Then they became engrossed in their fucking story so Billy resigns to the living room.

He’s got the television switched on to MTV. He’s laying back on his workout bench, doing reps, ten at a time then waiting for a few seconds before doing another ten. Eventually Steve wanders in and stretches out on the couch, eyeing the television.

But Billy catches Steve on more than one occasion looking at him.

His eyes trail over Billy’s hands gripped on the bar, down his arms popping veins to his rapidly expanding chest. He watches Steve shift around. He puts the bar into the latch and sits up, legs splayed open. He stares at Steve puffing on a cigarette, watches the smoke snake out his lips slow and deliberate.

“Wanna spot me Harrington?” He asks with a smarmy grin.

“Doesn’t look like you need it.” Steve comments with dark eyes.

He’s all breathy. Like watching Billy is making _him_ sweat.

“Ya know, _my_ door has a lock.” Billy’s grin turns shark-like.

Steve’s face pinks and he looks away.

Billy shrugs, feels good that he finally made Steve react. “Suit yourself.”

He lays back down and continues doing reps. Steve is still watching him. It’s distracting and he can’t keep track of his count, just aimlessly straightens his arms up, brings the bar back down to his chest.

Eventually he sits up, panting, sweating through his tank top. Steve’s a little slack-jawed. Billy tries not to beam under the attention.

He goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water and when he returns to the living room Steve is on his feet beside the bench, touching the weights, his back towards Billy. He slides up behind him quietly, sticks his face near Steve’s ear.

“Wondering how many reps I could do with you?” Billy asks lowly before taking a sip from his glass.

Steve jumps.

Max is coming from the bathroom down the hall and walking back into the living room. “Jesus you guys are gross.” She comments but doesn’t stop walking.

Billy chokes on his sip and flushes at being caught. Steve looks panicked. Sheepish, the two sit on the couch. They don’t say anything to each other for awhile and listen to the music on the television, to the kids talking and getting more amped with every turn.

“Max said your parents are going to be gone for a few days?”

Billy looks over at him, lets his eyes trail up and down Steve’s frame before answering. “Yeah?”

Steve squirms a little, looks like he’s contemplating something. “What if I came over tomorrow?” He asks.

“Here?” Billy asks, raises an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, unless you have a better idea.” Steve says, defensive.

“Nope, no ideas.” Billy says, shrugs innocently.

“Oh I think you have _plenty_ of ideas in that head of yours.” Steve says quietly, and locks eyes with Billy.

And maybe he didn’t _mean_ to sound so fucking _wrecked_ but now Billy can’t look away. Steve’s got _mischief_ in his eyes and Billy wants to tell the kids to take their game outside.

Twenty-four hours is going to feel like a hundred years.

“Make sure you’re working out before I get here.” Steve tells him before getting up and leaving Billy’s side, going back into the kitchen with the brats.

Billy’s sitting there, fucking stunned.

Hard in his shorts.

 

_Oh, either way we lose_

_Just like lovers, just like lovers do_

* * *

 

“What do you mean I _have to leave_?” Max asks with a puzzled look on her face.

“I just need the house empty for a _few_ hours, okay? Just -- go hang out with your friends, _please_? Around three?” Billy asks.

They’re eating donuts for breakfast. It’s Billy’s way of bribing her.

“Holy shit, Billy, what’s your _deal_?” She says with frosting on her face.

“Max, I’ve put up with your friends, I’ve been driving you around for months, I didn’t tell dad about your little _boyfriend_ , can you just do me this one thing?” He says before shoving half a donut in his mouth.

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, then a smile forms on her face, “Steve’s coming over, isn’t he?”

She looks smug and victorious when Billy tries to deflect by shoving the other half of the donut in his mouth and chugging down the rest of his milk.

She nods, still smiling. “Yeah, okay, I want to see Lucas anyways since he didn’t come over yesterday.”

“Thought he was grounded?”

“It’s called a bedroom window, Billy.” Max rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you’ve used one before.”

He starts to say something, then changes his mind. “Max, you -- no, whatever, it’s fine. _Thank_ you.”

“Anytime, bro.” She takes another donut and wraps it in a napkin before leaving the table.

It’s weird, it’s the first time she’s called him that.

Billy thinks maybe, just _maybe_ he could get used to it.

 

*

 

He starts working out at half past two, doesn’t want to be _exhausted_ when Steve shows up.

He’s not into it though, keeps jiggling his leg and looking out the window every five minutes.

He does manage to get a few rounds of reps in and his blood is pumping by the time there’s a knock on the door.

It’s more from nerves than the work out.

He answers the door and says, “You’re late.”

Steve looks amused. “Didn’t know you had such a _tight_ schedule.”

He’s got a plastic bag in either hand.

Billy wants to know what’s in them but Steve’s got them tied shut.

He’s wearing loose clothing. _Easy access_ , Billy’s mind supplies.

He moves aside so Steve can come in.

The house seems suddenly smaller with Steve standing there looking so calm.

He thinks about offering Steve a drink but that seems _stupid_. Steve takes his shoes off and goes over to the couch, putting the bags on it.

“What the hell did you bring?” Billy asks.

“Snacks. You didn’t have shit yesterday.”

“Snacks.” Billy repeats.

“Mmm, and Gatorade. Electrolytes and all that.” He opens one of the bags and throws a blue drink at Billy who catches it easily, still a bit shocked that he brought _snacks_.

 _Electrolytes_. Like they’ll need to replenish them. Billy’s mouth dries at the implication.

Steve takes out a new pack of cigarettes, unwraps it and gets one in his mouth, lights it.

Billy drinks from the Gatorade but doesn’t break eye contact.

“So you been working out? Like I asked?” Steve asks between drags.

“Maybe.” Billy says, capping the drink.

“Get back to it.” Steve tells him.

“Wow, _bossy_ today, aren’t you?” Billy says confidently even though he feels something rush through him, something like _nerves_.

Steve ticks an eyebrow up. “I can always leave?”

Since when the fuck did Steve get so blasé? Billy swallows thickly and slowly goes back over to his bench, sets the Gatorade next to the television.

He lays down and Steve walks over as he begins doing his reps. He watches Steve watch him, has about ten million things running through his mind but doesn’t get a chance to verbalize anything because Steve _straddles_ him, almost makes Billy drop the fucking bar.

Instead he makes a choked gasping sound.

Steve watches him, curious. “Don’t stop.” He instructs when Billy pauses.

Billy knows Steve can feel his muscles clench with every rep as he continues. He knows Steve’s drinking in his flushed face.

For once, Billy _doesn’t_ feel like he has the upper hand. It’s a little liberating. It’s a little scary.

Steve stretches out his hand with the butt of the cigarette facing Billy, nodding at it for Billy to take a hit.

Billy lifts his head a little and Steve gets the end into his mouth. Billy puffs on it. He breathes out smoke _hard_ when Steve bites his lip and pulls the cigarette back, smokes from it like he’s trying to chase the taste of Billy. Steve shudders when Billy jerks his hips up.

Steve lets the cigarette dangle in his mouth and reaches out, touches Billy’s biceps, traces the shape of it. Billy doesn’t move while he does this, just lets the bar sit on the latch and keeps his arms up, the skin twitches under each brush of Steve’s fingers.

“Wanted to do this yesterday, wanted to climb on top of you and just _watch_.” Steve mutters. “You were right ya know. I _like_ _boys_. And god you’re so fucking _hot_ I can’t stand it sometimes.” He shivers, twitches on Billy’s lap.

Billy leaves the bar hooked onto the latch cause he can feel Steve’s dick through his shorts, can _see_ it starting to plump up.

“I didn’t say stop.” Steve says, voice like sandpaper.

Billy sits up, ducking his head as he does so he doesn’t smack the bar and get a fucking concussion, and wraps a hand around Steve, plants it on his ass to prevent him from falling back.

He gets his other hand around Steve and stands, forcing Steve to wrap his legs around him, make him grip at Billy’s shoulders. Steve may be taller than him but he’s thin, light enough to carry.

Steve’s got that cigarette hanging in his mouth.

“Gimme.” Billy tells him, tightens his hold on Steve’s ass.

Steve misinterprets him and removes the cigarette from his mouth, leans in and kisses Billy instead.

It’s better than the cigarette.

Steve licks into his mouth, greedy and _needy_. Billy’s tongue is against his in a second. They both groan and try to one-up each other, Billy bites and Steve nips, Billy sucks on his tongue and Steve does this fluttering thing with his that has Billy hard in _seconds_. He gets to know the roof of Steve’s mouth, every molar and incisor and Steve whimpers.

Steve feels so good in his arms, so _right_ and Billy’s high on it, blood pounding in his ears, making his heartbeat thump in his fingertips as they knead Steve’s ass.

Ash from the cigarette falls and lands on his arm. He ignores the burn.

They kiss like it’s the last time they’ll get the chance. Steve, despite being bold, is still shy about it, blushing and shaking in Billy’s arms but he _wants this_. Billy walks, knows the way to his room and doesn’t break the kiss, pushes his mouth even harder against Steve’s who in turn drops the cigarette somewhere in the hall.

He gets to the edge of his bed, can feel it when his legs hit the frame. Steve pulls away, breathing hard, eyes fixated on Billy’s mouth.

Billy gets onto the bed with Steve still wrapped around him, cradles Steve’s head as he leans down on top of him and lays Steve back on the pillow.

Finally, _finally_ \-- he has Steve right where he wants him.

But he has to be slow about this, can’t just _take_ everything all at once.

As much as he wants to get his dick in Steve’s ass, he knows that’s not going to happen today.

He kisses Steve again, holding his face in his hands, licks at Steve’s bottom lip, bites then licks again. Steve whines into his mouth, has his hands under Billy’s shirt and runs his nails over Billy’s abs, fingers slipping on the sweaty skin.

Billy shakes above him, moves his mouth down and gets his teeth into the skin of Steve’s neck.

“ _Yes_.” Steve hisses, arching up. “B-bite me. _Please_.”

Billy lifts his head a little, wants to comment on how he didn’t expect anything like this from _Steve_ but holds his tongue, doesn’t want to ruin the moment. Instead he sinks back down into him and bites hard.

The _sound_ that rips out of Steve’s throat is insane.

Billy grapples at the hem of Steve’s shorts, shoves a hand down and wraps his hand around Steve’s dick.

Steve let’s out another desperate noise and Billy pulls at his dick, pulls at his neck with his teeth.

Harrington’s _hung_ , not like he hasn’t seen it in the showers but this is different, he’s hard and _wet_ already and Billy’s losing his mind a little.

He uses the pre-cum as lube, makes a tight fist and jacks Steve slow and teasing, lightening his hold when Steve’s breath hitches, tightening again when Steve moves his hips in needy circles.

When he gets his mouth off of Steve, he’s proud of the mark he’s left behind, red and angry, an imprint of his teeth dug deep into the skin.

He removes his hand and Steve lets out a disappointed sound, flushed face looking down like he’s about to demand _what the hell_ Billy is thinking.

Billy’s intentions are clear though when he shimmies down Steve’s body, pulls at Steve’s shorts till they’re around Steve’s ankles, leaves the boy to sit up partly and kick them off himself before falling back again.

Something settles in Billy’s stomach now that he has Steve spread out in front of him, cock standing tall and red, pale thighs parted, chest heaving.

Steve’s mouth is open a little, pupils blown out, hair askew.

It keeps hitting him in the face. He has _Steve_ _Harrington_ in his room.

Billy starts taking off his shirt. Steve reaches out. “No!” He says sharply. Billy pauses. “Keep it on.”

Billy’s still a little sweaty. He _smells._

Steve’s _gross_.

It makes him smirk, his dick twitches with it.

“What if I fold it into a ball and shove it in your mouth, make you gag on it?” He says and Steve shivers.

“C’mon, Billy.” He begs, sits up but Billy reaches out, gets his palm flat on Steve’s chest and pushes him back down, slides forward and keeps his palm there, _holding_ Steve in place.

“Don’t move.” He whispers, low and heady.

Steve’s chest is rising and falling under Billy’s hand, like he’s a trapped and panicked animal.

But _Billy’s_ the one who feels like the beast.

He removes his hand, gets eye-level with Steve’s dick and opens his mouth, takes him down as far as he can, wraps his hand around the rest.

Steve moans, head falling back, legs opening further, toes curling.

Billy sucks, hollows his cheeks and lets his tongue work Steve over as he bobs his head, dizzy with the taste and the weight of Steve on his tongue.

He reaches his free hand out, grabs one of Steve’s and moves it till Steve’s fingers are buried in his hair. Steve’s gasping like he’s _dying_ and his digits tighten in Billy’s curls automatically.

Billy groans, elongates it as he gets his mouth further down Steve’s dick, so Steve can feel it in his _throat_.

Steve lets out a broken cry, a _sob_.

Billy slows up a little, gets his mouth to the head of Steve’s dick and pauses there.

Steve whines at the loss, moves his hips up.

That’s what Billy _wants,_ almost cums in his pants when he feels the hot slide of Steve’s dick pass his lips. He grabs Steve’s other hand, puts _that_ one in his hair as well and breathes out shakily through his nose.

Steve moves his hips again and it’s like a floodgate after that, he _gets_ it.

His hips snap up, over and over, clumsy like he’s never _done_ this before, never had the opportunity to take some girl’s head in his hands and hold her there while he takes what he wants, is given _permission_ to take what he wants.

He widens his mouth more, relaxes his jaw, gives Steve ample space to thrust and feel his dick his the back of Billy’s throat.

He’s _close_ , shaking and holding Billy's hair harder, it _hurts_ and Billy’s eyes tear up.

Then Steve’s trying to move Billy _off_ of him, but Billy won’t have it, smacks his hands away and sucks Steve down hard and Steve’s begging, saying Billy’s name and _please_ and _oh_ and he’s cumming hard, jerking with it, shouting like he’s possessed.

Billy licks him clean, doesn’t stop until Steve is pulling at his hair, this time pleading with an edge of _too much_ in his tone, almost crying as Billy’s tongue licks over his sensitive head, swipes down the vein he’s got running on the underside, laps at his balls like he wants to get Steve going again.

Billy groans low and hungry as another dribble of cum runs down Steve’s cock, followed by a shocked gasp from Steve’s lips.

“Holy _fuck_.” Steve pants, sweat on his temple and his chest.

Billy licks at his bottom lip, salty and heavy with the taste of Steve.

He crawls up, hovers over Steve for a moment before kissing him, making Steve taste _himself_.

“I wanna do you.” Steve mumbles into Billy’s mouth.

Billy drew back. “You sure?”

“Yes, please.” Steve says, smiles wide and pushes Billy’s shoulders, moving them both until they were flipped.

Steve mimics Billy’s motions in taking off his shorts, grabs Billy’s hips and digs his nails in as he scratches down Billy’s thighs.

They quake under the pointed tips of Steve’s nails.

Still sluggish from his orgasm, Steve moves slowly, pushing Billy’s legs open more, getting himself situated and comfortable in front of Billy’s dick, staring at it with, almost... _admiration_. Billy gazed at him, unhinged and _aching_.

“You’re gonna have to talk me through this.” Steve breathes out a laugh.

“Yeah, I got you.” Billy says, squirming under Steve’s gaze. 

His mouth opens and Billy locks himself into the moment, takes a mental photograph for later cause he wants that image burned behind his eyes _forever_.

A pink tongue flicks out, laps at the slit. Billy hisses, hands curling into the sheets below him.

Steve moves his mouth down, covers the head of Billy’s cock. Billy grit his teeth, swallowing a whimper.

“O-okay, now, suck a little.” He instructs, shocked at how breathy he sounds.

Steve did as he was told, sucked lightly, then harder, moving his tongue around the head.

“Now more, can...can you take more?” Billy asks desperately.

Steve moaned and moved his head down, accommodating Billy’s request. Billy’s so strung-out he knows this isn’t going to last long and he whines a little at the knowledge, _sad_ that Steve won’t have his pretty, full lips wrapped around his dick anymore.

“Teeth, watch the teeth.” Billy told him, hips jerking at the graze against his skin.

Steve shifted his lips down, capping his teeth and sucked again and _again_.

Though he’d never sucked dick before, Steve _had_ a dick and he knew what it liked. Billy tried not to move his hips but Steve was coaxing the movement out of him.

Steve got a little aggressive, held down Billy’s hips so he couldn’t move as much and the slight give Billy had was only because Steve was _allowing_ it.

“Fuck, you’re. You. _Fuck_.” Billy whined, no longer worried about his voice and his reactions.

He couldn’t think about anything but the velvety heat of Steve’s mouth, the unrelenting bobs of his head.

“R-relax your jaw so it doesn -- _ha!_ \-- tense.”

Steve tries but it’s still his first blowjob so he can’t fully relax and he moves his lips up, pops off of Billy and watches, transfixed on Billy’s swaying dick.

He breathes out hard, eyes glassy when they meet Billy’s.

Like a dying man being offered a drink, he dives back in, using his hands to grip at the meat of Billy’s inner thighs, digging his nails in the sensitive skin.

Billy snaps, can’t warn Steve before his dick pulses in Steve’s mouth and he’s cumming.

Steve pulls off with a gasp and some of it lands on Steve’s cheek.

Billy’s trembling with the aftershock as Steve collapses next to him.

“I...I really _liked_ that.” Steve says, reaches up and wipes at his face, not disgusted at the cooling mess there.

“ _Jesus_ , where did you come from?” Billy climbs back on top of Steve and their mouths meet, spent dicks rubbing together as he sits in Steve’s lap.

They make out, slow and hot for awhile, till the little energy that remains is drained from Billy’s limbs, till he’s nothing but jelly and Steve grips at his ass with shaking hands.

 

*

 

Steve wants _ice cream_ of all things when they’re cleaned up and dressed.

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you’re not _craving_ a Bomb Pop right now?” Steve pleads.

“Why? Your throat hurting a little? It’ll feel worse tomorrow, lemme tell you.” Billy says, hand on Steve’s hip.

He can’t stop _touching_ Steve, is persistent about keeping the contact while he can, while they’re hidden from outside eyes.

Steve gets puppy-dog eyes and Billy caves. “Fine, but you’re buying."

He’s feeling so sated after having Steve in his bed, so heavy with exhaustion and sleepy-eyed.

Steve seems to have enough energy for the two of them and offers to drive. They smoke and listen to the radio and don’t talk but it’s not awkward. It’s _nice_ , feels _normal_.

Billy’s eyes catch a construction site, a large piece of land that had been for sale since Billy had moved to Hawkins. It’s littered with workers in vests and hard hats, the sound of saws whirring. A sign in front of it that reads _Hawkins Int._ Steve slows the car as they pass.

“Wonder what’s going to be there.” Billy mumbles.

“In this town? Shit like that is never good.”

Billy looks over at him with a comical face, like another McDonalds and a bank is going to _ruin_ the town but he doesn’t say anything because --

Steve looks _scared_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think Hawkins Int is going to be a problem? The answer is absolutely. Things can't stay normal in Hawkins for very long.
> 
> Lyrics are Like Lovers Do by Hey Violet


	4. OCTOBER & NOVEMBER

**OCTOBER**

_Would you bleed for me?_

_Lick it off my lips like you needed me?_

 

* * *

 

 

Everything’s so much nicer in the fall.

At least -- that’s what everyone _else_ seems to think. The air is crisp; you crack the windows instead of keeping them wide open; you pull out heavy blankets for the chilly nights and make wood piles for the upcoming bonfires. Hunters tinker with four-wheelers and snowmobiles, obtain permits for bow season.

Something permeable and thick lingers, you have to learn how to breathe again, but it’s not the chest-collapsing air of summer, now there’s _too_ much and you’re filling up like a balloon.

Billy’s been sick for _three days_. It’s exhausting. He spends hours passed out, sleeping off headaches and waking up hacking so hard he feels like he’ll throw up.

There’s been plenty of throwing up all the same.

He’s disoriented, like he’s got permanent vertigo, like his entire center of balance has shifted because of some fucking cold weather.

_“You’re gonna regret not wearing actual clothes.” Steve told him when Billy bitched about the wind but refused to button up his shirt._

_“But if I did that you wouldn’t have any chest to stare at.” He had retorted._

_Steve had just rolled his eyes and tsked through his teeth._

Neil doesn’t care, just tells him to stay in his room so the rest of them don’t get sick. Billy asks if he can move the television into his room until he feels better. Neil smiles and says _fuck no._

To retaliate, he brushes his teeth with his dad’s toothbrush after he goes to work. Yeah, he feels a little gross about it, but Neil getting sick will be worth it.

Max brings him water and cool rags to put on his head. Susan cooks meatloaf and stew and other comfort food, none of which Billy can stomach for long. He’s in and out constantly, feels sick at the stench of his father smoking in the living room, goes from too hot to too cold every few hours. His mind can only focus on getting better, and he thinks about all the times he took a clear sinus for granted.

On the third day his eyes snap open suddenly at the sound of incessant knocking coming from the front door. It’s still early in the afternoon and pale sunlight filters through his window, attacks his irises and they contract.

Billy’s wrapped up in a comforter as he stumbles to the door to open it. His head is spinning, vision blurred, but he makes it there, collapses against the wood with a huff and a shudder running through him.

Steve’s on the other side, looks perturbed. Leaves fall behind him in slow, lazy circles. It’s annoying, how _normal_ the day looks. Billy feels like it should reflect his current state; a mess of sleet and snow, wind picking up and dying down in waves. Instead it’s quiet and still.

“You’re not dead.” He says shortly, tone brasher than his soft eyes. Always with the readable eyes.

“Oh no, I definitely died, sometime yesterday I think.” Billy replies with a sniff, coughs a second later.

“You’re _sick_.” Steve tells him.

“Oh, _that’s_ what it is.” Billy snaps at him.

Steve wilts a little. “You’re _mean_ when you’re sick.”

“I’m always mean.” Billy mumbles and starts shutting the door as a breeze picks up. Steve reaches out and pushes it back open.

“The school sent me to bring you your homework.”

“Gee, thanks, nothing like _math_ to make the shaking and vomiting subside.” He deadpans but the thick, stuffed quality to his voice doesn’t make him sound intimidating or mean, just _tired_.

“Are you going to let me in?” Steve asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“At your own risk, dude.”

Steve tosses Billy’s assignments on the couch once he’s in the house, looks around like it’s the first time he’s been there.

Then it hits Billy that Steve’s trying to _appear_ casual.  He’s not very good at it.

Billy squints at him “You’re skipping, aren’t you? No teacher’s gonna send a student in the middle of the day.”

“No one’s here?” Steve asks instead of answering him.

Billy shakes his head then pauses a moment before a weak smile stretches over his face. “You wanted to see me.” It’s in a sing-song tone.

Steve is stubborn though. He rolls his eyes. “Have you eaten?”

Billy sneezes, wipes at his nose with his blanket before responding. “Ever?”

“God, you’re _so_ annoying.” Steve says. “Go lay down. I’ll make you soup.”

“You can cook?” Billy asks.

“I can heat shit up.”

“Wow, you’re the perfect man. There’s stew in the fridge. Will you bring me that?” Billy asks, feeling stuffed and woozy.

“Sure, now go.” Steve says, shoos him away, but Billy can see the pleased look on his face.

He trudged back to his room, collapses on the bed face-down and groans.

He wants to _die._

He dozes off a little but rolls over when his door pushes open.

Steve found a tray somewhere, Billy’s never used it before. He’s brought the stew, some ginger ale, a sleeve of crackers.

Billy reaches for his cigarettes.

Steve sets the tray in Billy’s lap and grabs the smokes out of his reach. “Uh uh, that’s not gonna help.”

“You _suck_.” Billy tells him.

“I made you stew. I’m _amazing._ ” Steve says, takes out a cigarette and lights it up.

“Wow, you’re just gonna do that right in front of me?”

“You like when I do it in front of you.” Steve says, sticks out his tongue.

“Not now, Harrington. I’m too sick to jump you.” Billy says, grabs his spoon and eats slowly.

“You can do anything if you believe in yourself.” Steve deadpans.

Billy gets a spoonful down. He doesn’t feel his stomach twist up.

“So did you actually get sent here or were you worried about me?” Billy asks, drinking his ginger ale.

Steve shrugs. “Guess you’ll never know.”

Billy nibbles on a cracker, smiles around it. “You were worried.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“You were _worried_.” He says, a lot more confidence in his tone.

“Eat your damn stew.”

He gets half the bowl down, a few crackers and finishes the soda.

“You need anything? Medicine?” Steve asks.

“No.” Billy says, leans back and closes his eyes. “Can you...hang out till I’m asleep? Being sick is boring.”

Steve smiles, nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Steve rambles about school, about his parents, about the kids. Billy knows Max will be home soon, his dad will come home from work after that. He hopes Steve has the sense to disappear before that happens.

He’s on the brink of sleep when he feels a hand on his forehead, but he’s too deep in it to wake up.

He feels a chaste press of lips against his.

Then there’s nothing but darkness.

 

_Would you sit me on a couch with your fingers in my mouth?_

_You look so cool when you're reading me_

 

* * *

 

He’s well enough to go to school the next day.

Steve is _sick_ , keeps coughing and his face is red. He glares at Billy a lot who in return grins ear to ear and at lunch stalks up behind Steve in line and says behind him, “Well what did you think would happen?”

Steve turns sharp and gives him a look that says _go fuck yourself_ but he says under his breath, “You know, the longer we’re both sick the longer it’s gonna take for you to get any action.” Steve looks away from him, lets out a groan like he’s in pain.

“Or,” Billy elongates the word, whispers behind him so no one will hear, “we could fuck anyway and just keep exchanging the sickness. Romanticize the illness. It’ll be our first _thing_.”

Steve turns and looks at him over his shoulder, his face the picture of shock.

“What?” He asks quietly, more like he can’t understand than intending to keep it down.

Billy rolls his eyes. “I’m kidding, Harrington. Now move, you’re holding up the line.”

 

_Let's cause a little trouble_

_Oh, you make me feel so weak_

_I bet you kiss your knuckles_

_Right before they touch my cheek_

 

* * *

 

The thing is, Billy doesn’t do relationships. He’s not that guy.

 _Steve’s_ that guy though.

And it makes Billy wonder how this will go.

He figures it’ll end after the school year is over.

That thought makes him a little sad, but he buries that down as far as it’ll go, spends his time watching Steve while they’re in his Beemer, watches the way the cool October wind makes his hair ruffle, how his raw, red nose is dried at the tip, the only thing remaining of his cold, how the corners of his mouth and eyes crinkle when he laughs, how his long fingers drum on the steering wheel to some shitty pop song Billy can’t stand.

But he doesn’t change the channel.

Before Hawkins, the last couple months in California -- right at the tail-end there, Billy used to picture getting into a car accident.

He’d drive through a green light and imagined the cars idled on either side waiting to go -- he’d imagine they wouldn’t be stopped, that instead they were barreling onwards.

Impact, abrupt and loud -- but only for a second -- the way his breath would escape his body in a soundless rush, all the air evaporated from his lungs; the car spinning as the lights around him became a kaleidoscope. Hearing only the screech of tires, the smack and bang of metal before everything cut out, like the last turn on a projector wheel.

He used to do it a lot, could lay back on his bed and fill an afternoon with thoughts of the aftermath, people rushing towards him, paramedics contacting his father. And he felt nothing. His heart wouldn’t double in speed, there’d be no worry lacing his muscles, tensing him up. It was as simple as thinking of where he’d like to go for lunch.

But now, when Steve’s in the passenger seat of his Camaro, he doesn’t think that way anymore.

And he always looks when he’s going through an intersection to make sure some asshole isn’t blowing a red.

 

_But I've got my mind made up this time_

_Cause there's a menace in my bed_

_Can you see his silhouette?_

 

* * *

 

Billy’s not comfortable most places, always feel out of place like he’s sticking out in a bad way. But he likes being over at Hopper’s place, weird as that is. The cabin, tucked neatly in the woods, can barely hold all of them but he likes it; being surrounded by the still air and the color from the rapidly depleting trees gives the impression that anything is possible. Everything's crisp, almost _new_ even though it's dying.

The kids are outside making piles of leaves to jump in. He wants to taunt them about being too old for shit like this, but holds his tongue.

Kinda wants to do it himself.

And that thought shakes him to the core a little. He hasn’t felt this carefree in a while which usually means something bad is right around the corner. Makes him tighten his jaw, walk on the balls of his feet like a cat getting ready to strike.

He smokes his cigarette hard, right next to the front door and over the shrieks of laughter, he catches Steve’s voice.

“Do you know what Hawkins International is?” It’s low. Serious.

“Never heard of it. I thought it was weird too. The company that always builds housing has a different name, can’t remember it worth a damn but it sure as shit ain’t Hawkins International.” Hopper responds.

“You don’t think that’s weird? After all the shit that went down last year?” Steve sounds irritated.

“Look, kid, I’m just trying to keep my nose clean and Jane safe and on track with her schoolwork. It’s a miracle they let her in without me having any documents to back up where the hell she came from.”

“Yeah, but _we know_ where she came from. What if...what if they’re back? What if they want to take her? What if there’s another gate? Wh -- ”

“Okay, shut up. I’ll look into it if it’ll get you off my ass.” Hopper hisses at him. “Stop talking about this shit, alright?”

Billy doesn’t hear a reply. He flicks his cigarette somewhere and moves away from the door.

 

_Would you lie for me?_

_Cross your sorry heart and hope to die for me?_

* * *

 

 

Every time he drives by the construction site, he slows down and watches. Everything appears normal, pouring foundation, putting up walls. Nothing unusual.

But it’s happening _fast,_  like _too_ fast. Whoever bought it has money to make these guys move, and that’s _interesting_ cause Hawkins isn’t a town with money.

Which means someone outside of Hawkins bought it and slapped a name on it that makes it look local and safe.

Billy’s not as dumb as people think.

On one of his trips he parks a few blocks away and gets out of the car, walks over to the site casually and finds a group of three guys eating packaged sandwiches from the gas station.

“So what’re you guys building?” Billy asks after offering them cigarettes. They all take one.

“Dunno, we’re just building it. No one told us what it is.” One guy says around a mouth of roast beef, some mayonnaise on the corner of his mouth.

“Huh. Weird.” Billy jerks his shoulder.

“Yeah, and it’s _big,_  like a community center or something. Who knows? Guy who bought it wants it up fast before winter.”

“Well, you guys are doing a great job by the looks of it.”

“Thanks kid. Have you ever thought about construction?”

He chatters mindlessly with them for a few more minutes before leaving them to their lunch.

As he walks back to his car, his mind whirls.

He wonders why Steve cares so much, what Hopper meant about Jane not having any proof of her past, about _what if they’re back?_

He’s in his head so much he almost gets hit by a car as he crosses the parking lot. The honk jolts him out of his thoughts.

Suddenly his skin feels tight, like he wants to explode out of it. He needs answers.

 

_Would you pin me to the wall?_

_Would you beg or would you crawl?_

_Stick a needle in your hungry eyes for me?_

* * *

 

He does something very un-Billy like and takes Jane for ice cream after school one day. Max was already getting a ride to the arcade and Jane never liked going there. It was too loud, too many people. She’s still and quiet in the seat next to him, elbow on the window ledge, chin in her palm, watching as they drive by houses then small stores before getting to the center of town.

He drives past the ice cream parlor. She looks over at him.

He slows as they pass the construction site.

Worry coats her face before she turns back to look. Once she does, she stares. Hard. Looks back over at him, now her eyes are wide but she’s not scared, not like Steve had been.

“The bad men.” She says.

He doesn’t reply, drives and makes a u-turn and they go to the ice cream parlor like he promised.

She gets a double scoop of chocolate with sprinkles. He gets a simple vanilla cone.

They sit at one of the little tables with tall stools and he watches her eat her ice cream.

She’s contemplative.

“The bad men.” He repeats.

She stops licking. “They’re back.” It’s simple, not a warning, said with a shrug.

“When were they here before?” Billy asks her.

“Last year. Last year was bad.”

“In what way?” He asks, ignores the dripping cold mess that’s started over his fingers.

“The gate.” She says.

“Like a wooden fence?” He asks.

She shakes her head. “You should talk to Steve. And Hopper. I’ll get in trouble.”

“Hey, no one’s here. I won’t tell.” Billy says, offers her a small smile.

He’s such a fucking liar. And it makes him feel worse cause it’s _her._

Her eyes narrow for a moment. And he can tell that _she knows_ he’s lying.

“Monsters. Last year there were monsters. I stopped them.” She bites into her cone, nibbling around it and wearing the edges down.

He thinks about that night at the Byers and all the cryptic shit he’d heard.

“You can help this time. You can kill monsters too.”

“Some of them, maybe.” He says, puts his cone on a bundle of napkins, lets the ice cream soak in.

“Monsters come in many forms. Sometimes like nightmares. Sometimes like...family.”

And he sees that look he hates. That pity, tearful look. He wants to smush her face into the cone.

He doesn’t _do_ it obviously.

“Steve can help too. He helped before.”

“Yeah, he’s a regular knight in shining armor.”

She looks quizzical.

“He slays the dragon.” Billy explains, feels stupid after he says it.

Jane still doesn’t look like she gets it. “Thank you for the ice cream.” She says and pops the final bit in her mouth.

“Yeah, and I won’t tell. I won’t say anything till they say something, okay?”

“It’s okay, Billy. You need to know. They’re coming for all of us this time. I can feel it.”

And he doesn’t know _what the fuck_ that means but he knows she’s right.

When he drops her off something clicks. He sees the flash of her tattoo and remembers that she’s mentioned _the bad men_ before.

He drives away with more questions than answers.

 

_And I've got my mind made up this time_

_Go on and light a cigarette_

_Set a fire in my head_

_Set a fire in my head tonight_

* * *

 

Halloween night is dark, really _fucking_ dark. The stars are dim; the moon is at half and even it seems tired, weary from the long month.

They‘re all piled in Mike‘s living room, making plans for the candy route. Billy drops Max off and gets dragged inside, pretends to put up a fight so he doesn‘t have to tell her he had plans with Steve after they all took off. The kids are restless. Everything’s too much, they’re spilling over, like they’ve all been cooped up for too long and can’t stand one another. Like a shitty college roommate sitcom.

Billy finds a sick pleasure in hearing them bicker. Like he wants to laugh and say _finally, you shitheads know how I feel._

Steve is like a distracted mother, trying to keep them from killing one another, trying to keep Billy from sneaking shots of the Wheeler’s whiskey, trying to keep himself from flinging off the roof by smoking too many cigarettes out on the porch.

Mrs. Wheeler keeps checking in on Billy, asking if he wants punch or cookies. He smiles wide and turns her down. She gets an evil glint in her eye and offers him something _stronger_. And as tempting as that is, the way Steve interrupts by clearing his throat and telling her firmly, _no_ , is better than any drink he could've gotten.

The kids are all wearing something different. Dustin’s a vampire with a full cape and plastic teeth, keeps trying to talk around them and no one can understand him.

Max is a zombie, Nancy helps her with her makeup, gives her lacerations on her face and pussing wounds on her arms, paints her skin a sickly green-blue.

Mike is a _magician,_  of all fucking things. Billy has a suspicion he was just lazy. He’s wearing a suit and a top hat, a cheap, plastic wand in his hand from the ten-cent store. He looks bored.

Lucas is Rambo, complete with a bandanna, army boots, a fake gun he made himself. He’s got black lines on his cheeks and a fiery look in his eyes.

Jane’s wearing a rubber wolf mask and dark clothing. Whenever she takes the mask off she looks pissed.

“I want to be a ghost.” She keeps saying.

Will.

He didn’t dress up. He tells them over and over he doesn’t want to go trick or treating anymore, he’s over it and just wants to stay home and pass out candy. The kids all share this knowing look. Billy tries not to get aggravated.

There’s a party -- there’s always a party, but Billy and Steve decide not to go.

The kids are finally heading out and they’re watching them leave, parking in the living room leaning up against the fireplace.

Billy leans close to him, asks him _again,_ “Are you sure you don't want to go? Free booze and bad weed?”

Steve shrugs, noncommittal, “I don’t see the point when we can hang out by ourselves.”

“Well, can’t argue with that logic.” Billy says.

He’s pandering though. They haven’t been able to spend too much time together with school and basketball, and truthfully Billy’s itching to get his hands on Steve again as soon as possible.

They leave and he pushes the speed limit, rides ten over on the way to Steve’s house.

Steve shuts the outside lights off so no kids will try to trick-or-treat.

They’d bought pizza on their way over and Steve gets plates while Billy pulls beers out of the fridge.

“So your parents are at some Halloween thing?” Billy asks.

“Yeah, company party. Guess even adults like to party like kids sometimes.”

There’s a scary movie marathon on every other channel so they settle into _The Shining_ and drink.

Steve, as it turns out, _hates_ scary movies. Billy’s enamored with the way he jolts and yells out swears. He chokes on his beer at one point, looks away and coughs till Billy feels obligated to thump on his back.

After _The_ _Shining, Friday the 13th_ is on and Steve grumbles under his breath.

“We could always watch the news.” Billy grins at him.

Steve almost looks like he'll concede to that but he just shakes his head.

They’re both on their third beer when Steve goes into the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of vodka.

Billy’s lip twitches. “You drink that and you’re gonna start hearing shit, trust me.”

Steve ignores him and takes a pull from the bottle, hands it to Billy who does the same.

A few shots later Steve gets handsy, pushing in real close and putting his face against the skin of Billy’s neck.

“I don’t wanna watch this anymore.” He whines, moves his hand onto Billy’s thigh. “C’mere.”

Billy rolls his eyes but his heartbeat doubles. He turns and pushes his mouth against Steve’s, and _no_ he’s not fucking _smiling_ into the kiss, but if he is, he’ll blame it on the booze. Steve paws at him until he’s on top of Billy, fingers digging into his arms.

Billy’s too hot, there’s too many layers, he’s still got his fucking denim jacket on and Steve’s wearing this green sweater that’s too big on him and really? It’s too much fabric.

He leans up and wriggles out of it, throws it somewhere, Steve’s watching him, all red and hazy-eyed like Billy’s what’s making him drunk.

Steve kisses him again. It’s slow and sweet, the press of lips intentional and careful. There’s a burn low in Billy’s gut that sharpens tenfold when Steve bites his lip. He pulls it back with his teeth, watches the way Billy’s eyes darken. Steve’s own eyes narrow and a smirk pulls at his mouth.

Billy lets out a low groan, close to a growl, and grabs Steve by the hair, reconnects their mouths.

It’s a battle for a few seconds, trying to devour each other and Steve’s hands are everywhere, sliding down Billy’s waist, up his legs as he gets more comfortable between them. Billy grapples at his back like he’s going to slip away.

Billy’s _flying_. He can feel Steve’s dick as their hips move together, both trying to get friction.

Then Steve’s rigid above him and Billy’s got it in his head that Steve came in his pants, but he’s looking back and up, neck arched and so pretty and Billy can still remember exactly where he left that hickey, leans up to leave another but Steve lets out a shuddering breath and says,

“Did you hear that?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Billy groans, mouthing at Steve’s neck but Steve pulls back completely, sits up and asks again,

“No seriously, did you hear that?”

Billy’s about to snap at him but then he hears it _too_. It’s a thump from upstairs.

It’s methodical, quiet, but it’s there.

“What the _fuck_?” Steve hisses.

They move off the couch, “You still have that bat?” Billy asks, boner wilting with every passing second, the heartbeat in his ears no longer from arousal.

“Yeah but it’s in my _room._ ” Steve says while rubbing his hands together nervously.

“Course, okay, uh. Knife. Let’s get a knife.” Billy says.

They quietly move into the kitchen and pull two large knives from the set on the counter.

Armed and nervous, Billy leads the way upstairs.

They’re both silent, all you can hear is the music and faint dialogue from the television downstairs.

It’s dark in Steve’s house. It’s _creepy_. A few of the stairs creak underfoot and Billy feels goosebumps rise on his arms.

“You sure you don’t have a cat you never told me about?” Billy asks under his breath.

“No.” Steve replies.

“One, two, Freddy's coming for you.” Billy sings.

“That is NOT funny.” Steve wheezes.

They get to Steve’s room. Billy braces himself for a moment then shoves open the door.

It’s dark and he fumbles for the light but he can definitely see two figures, dark near the window.

“Fuck!” Steve shouts before light floods the room to reveal two guys in front of the open window, another with one leg in, one leg out.

“What the _fuck_?” Billy snaps.

“What the fuck are you guys _doing_ here?” Steve shouts.

They’re all piss drunk. It’s three guys from school, Billy recognizes one from the basketball team -- Matt, and the other two are Anthony and Jacob, both in classes with Steve.

“You weren’t at the party, man.” Anthony says, eyes matching his red shirt.

“We wanted to see what you were doing instead of getting laid.” Matt says with a pointy smile.

And then they’re all looking at Billy who suddenly feels like he’s wearing a dress.

“Well, uh, we just. We’re over that party shit, ya know?” Steve says.

Billy cuts him off. “Whatever, why didn’t you guys use the _front door?_ ”

“Cause that’s not rock-and-roll!” Jacob shouts and punches his fist in the air, still perched in the window.

Billy’s embarrassed _for him._

“So. What? You guys having a sleepover?” Matt asks, but it’s not a _nice_ question. There’s malice behind it. He looks like he just won the lottery.

_Shit._

“How about _don’t fucking worry_?” Steve says.

They’re still holding knives. Yeah, they’re not going to _use_ them but still. Knives.

“Cute, Steve found himself a boyfriend.” Matt says like he's the cool chick who just found out the band geek also collects stamps.

“Let’s call it a night.” Billy says, anger simmering right below the common sense. “How about you guys get the fuck out of here and I don’t kick you off the basketball team?” He says, eyes on Matt, “And we don’t call the cops for trespassing. And breaking and entering. And just general dickery.”

“Wow, alright.” Matt says. They move towards the door.

“Ha. Nah. How about going the same way you came.” Billy says, pointing at the window. With the knife.

Matt calls his bluff. “Oh, just fucking move. What're you gonna do? _Stab_ us?”

“Why don’t you try me and see?”

They have a little showdown, neither willing to back down at first. But Anthony grabs Matt by the shoulders and pulls him back.

“C'mon man, let's bail. I swear to god, Lori’s is gonna show her tits to us, she promised!” Anthony says, keeps pulling like a nag.

Their departure isn't a graceful one. Jacob can’t reach the branch with his foot at first and Anthony knocks his head against the window ledge a little but Matt is cool and collected as he slips through the window.

“See you guys at school on Monday.” He says, and it makes Billy see red.

“I'm gonna key that assholes car.” He mutters when Steve slams the window shut, nearly clipping Matt’s fingers.

When Steve turns back to him he looks...afraid. He’s looking at Billy like _he’s_ the monster in the shadows, like suddenly the ramifications of everything they’ve been doing, everything they’ve _shared,_  is all coming down on him at once.

“Hey.” Billy starts, takes a step and reaches out a hand tentatively.

Steve tenses. “I. Um. I think I want to be alone right now.”

Billy opens his mouth to speak but he can’t cause that just hit him in the stomach, a wallop that steals the breath from his lungs.

“Can you just go?” Steve says sharply.

Billy takes a deep breath through his nose, makes sure it doesn’t come out shaky.

“Yeah, whatever.”

He turns and leaves, stomps down the stairs and slams the door.

  
  
  


 

 

 

**NOVEMBER**

_I am not the only traveler_

_Who has not repaid his debt_

_I've been searching for a trail to follow again_

_Take me back to the night we met_

* * *

 

 

On Monday everyone is whispering in the hallways. Billy keeps his eyes trained on wherever he’s heading next; class, locker, lunch room, bathroom. But the whispers are persistent.

He’s shaky, off-balance, feels like clutching at the wall and breathing till he can see straight.

_“Did you hear Steve fucked that Wendy girl?”_

Finally, some gossip reaches his ears, and he feels so fucking confused that he walks into the wrong fourth period class.

Billy doesn't _care_ , not really. He knows what being gay in a town like Hawkins means. It doesn't _bug_ him.

What  _bugs_ him is how bothered Steve looks about it. Billy sees him in the halls, studies his face; he looks guilty, tired like he stayed up all night worrying about it. Billy wonders if he looks the same.

Billy puts Steve on defense during basketball.

After practice he doesn't stick around, drives home and does the only thing he can to let out a little aggression: he rakes the lawn. The angry stabs at the ground help, give him something to hit.

Susan pokes her head out after only a short while. “Billy, did you forget Max at school? I just got a call-"

“Oh, _fuck.”_ He shouts, throws down the rake and makes a beeline for his car.

“It’s fine, Billy! She said that nice boy, Steve, will bring her home.”

He stops, takes a deep breath and moves back slowly towards the rake, all the adrenaline he just got out now revving back up under his skin.

He finishes the front lawn in the time it takes Steve to bring Max home.

She slowly gets out of the car and glares at Billy, door still open.

“What happened?” She asks.

“Go into the house, Max.”

She slams the car door. He can see Steve jerk like he’s offended. Billy doesn’t move, only looks at Steve through the glass for a moment, then takes a step towards the car.

Steve is ignoring him, but knows Billy is there. When Billy gets closer, Steve pulls away fast, the wheels squeal with effort to put distance between the two of them. But Steve had looked at him for a moment, a split-second that Billy could’ve missed if he’d blinked. And Steve doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t look sad. Once again, he looks _scared._

 

_And then I can tell myself_

_What the hell I'm supposed to do_

_And then I can tell myself_

_Not to ride along with you_

* * *

 

 

A week passes. A _week._  Billy gets aggressive on the court, aggressive in the halls, shoulder-checking anyone that gets in his way. He snaps at Neil and in returns gets a black eye, a split lip. Whenever Max finds him to ask for a ride anywhere, he leaves the room or slams the door or turns up his music.

She flips him off more than once.

His dad is being a dick and won’t give him any money so he can’t get a bottle, spends his time in Tommy’s basement smoking his shitty weed and drinking light beer.

They belch and talk shit, Carol straddles Tommy at one point and Billy rolls his eyes, leans back and keeps his eyes on the ceiling.

Harrington’s being such a little bitch.

“Kick him off the team.” Tommy says.

And _oh_ , Billy had said that out loud.

“Yeah, maybe.” He replies.

“Seriously, we’re better off without him.” Tommy says, goes back to groping at Carol’s chest. “Don't know why you keep him around if you can’t stand him.”

Billy hums.

They go out for a walk into town since Tommy lives close to it and Billy’s brazen enough to bring his open beer, another one in his pocket.

Tommy kicks at snow, Carol beside him chirping about some bullshit between her and this girl, Casey, but Billy’s tuning them out, sipping his beer and staring at the ground.

He doesn’t realize they’ve stopped until he bumps into Tommy.

Him and Carol are looking across the street. Billy follows their gaze.

It’s the newly completed building. It’s only one story, brown and red brick with large windows in the front. A sign out front just says, _Center for Blood Donation and Medical Research._

“Huh, that didn’t take long.” Tommy says before him and Carol start moving again.

Billy stares at it for a few more seconds. He can see a desk through the window, but no one’s inside. There’s rows of chairs for patients, and racks of magazines up against one wall.

Billy sucks on the inside of his cheek.

 

_I had all and then most of you_

_Some and now none of you_

_Take me back to the night we met_

* * *

 

It’s not like he’s been sitting next to the phone, _waiting_ to hear from Steve or anything, but he’s home more than usual.

He tries to keep himself busy by working out --

but he keeps getting flashes of Steve on top of him.

He tries to study --

Steve’s there leaning next to him to ask him a question.

When he runs too low on smokes he wants to blame Harrington for bumming too many.

He hears this song on television he’d been meaning to tell Steve about, and it makes his heart lurch because he _can’t_ call him.

Max finds him moping on the steps outside on a Saturday. It’s barely snowing, the kind that melts as soon as it hits the ground. He’s holding a cigarette, not even smoking it really, just letting it burn.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Max asks, sitting down next to him.

He’s got his chin buried in his folded arms. “Nothing.”

“You are the _worst_ liar. Is it Steve?” She asks, leans in and bumps his shoulder.

 _Yes._ “God, not _everything_ is about the fucking Golden Boy.” He doesn’t look at her, but he knows she’s rolling her eyes.

“Oh, okay. So it’s about school or your dad or is it general teen angst?”

He peers over at her, embittered, takes a drag of his cigarette.

“Let’s go with general teen angst.”

She nods, distant in her thoughts. “Well, I bet I know what would make you feel better.”

He snorts, uninterested. “What’s that?”

“Taking me to the comic book store.”

He bumps her shoulder, harder than she’d done to him. “And I thought you had a real suggestion.”

“Come on, _please_? It’s Lucas’ birthday in a few weeks and I want to get him something.”

Billy squints. “Does he even _read_ comic books?”

“He’s a teenage boy. Of course he does.”

“You’re better off buying him a new walkie-talkie, or, like, a switchblade.”

She wrinkles her nose. “A _knife_?”

“I bet he’d love it.”

“No one’s gonna let _me_ buy a knife.”

He cocks his head, puffs on his cigarette. “I can buy it.”

She ticks an eyebrow up. “You’d do that for me? For him?”

He flicks his cigarette away. “Sure, why not?”

“...Okay, let’s go buy a knife.”

She’s been saving money and shells over a handful of one’s, two fives. He stands up and wipes the seat of his pants. It’s wet from the snow. Max runs back into the house and comes out with a jacket over her sweater.

Back in California, there were oddball boutiques and antique stores all over, but not in Hawkins. There’s one pawn shop run by a shady guy named Glen. Billy had been there looking for a decent sound system when he first arrived in Indiana. Glen tried to unload a dated 8-track home deck on him and Billy laughed in his face, left and went to go buy a stereo.

He tells Max to wait in the car, promises he’ll get Lucas something good.

Glen’s overcharging for shit knives, blades that are dull and handles that are broken. Granted, Billy could buff the blade up, sharpen it himself but he spies a nice automatic blade that’s practically new, probably sold for drugs or to make rent.

He haggles. Glen chews on a cigar, fat fingers drumming on the counter glass as Billy talks. He missed a button on his shirt and there’s something in his teeth from whatever he’d had for lunch. His mouth hangs open and he breathes deep like standing is winding him. He tries to tell Billy that the blade dates back at least fifty years and Billy pretends to yawn.

“Look, dude, I’m not a fucking moron. I’ll give you fifteen, at most. The things not worth thirty-five. You’re _insane._ ”

They have a staring match. Glen’s sweating, a sheen on his red face.

Billy leans on the counter. “ _Glen,_  when did you last have a customer in here? Someone that wanted to _buy_ and not sell?” He grins, cheeky. “What’s it gonna be?”

Glen gives in. Billy slides over the money and takes the knife from Glen, giving him a salute on the way out.

Max has her face practically plastered to the window, waiting for Billy to come out.

He slides into the driver's seat and shows it to her, taps the button and the blade flicks out.

“It’s _perfect_.” She says, taking it from him.

“Yeah, just be _careful._  Cause Neil will _kill_ me if you hurt yourself.”

She’s smiling at him. He manages to return it with a weak one of his own. He catches movement behind her, across the street and sees Steve leaving the music shop, with some _guy_. He’s ginger, with shaggy hair and dimples. They’re laughing, walking close together and talking exuberantly.

Billy’s face fades into disbelief, then confusion, then anger.

Max turns and looks. “Who’s that?” She asks.

Billy’s mouth is dry. He swallows. “You don't recognize him?”

Max shakes her head a little, shrugs. “Nope, you?”

“Haven’t...seen him before. Must be a freshman or something.”

“Well, _Steve_ seems to knows him.”

Billy starts the car, revs the engine. The pair don't look his way. He revs it again, pulls out of the spot and whips into the road.

He’s _boiling,_  sees Steve catch sight of his car in the rear-view mirror.

It doesn’t even seem to _faze_ him.

 

_I don't know what I'm supposed to do_

_Haunted by the ghost of you_

_Take me back to the night we met_

* * *

 

 

Billy didn’t care when it was some girl Steve needed to fuck to keep his head above the rumors.

But this...this is some _guy,_  some random guy that Steve’s walking around _beaming_ at.

He keeps seeing them in his mind, walking down the street and laughing.

Billy always does this -- assumes the worst -- so in his mind, they’ve already gone further than he _ever_ got with Steve. The thought of someone else having Steve like that, after all the push and pull between them, the heat and the anger and the _confusion_ , it makes Billy pace in the small space of his room.

Neil is yelling his name from the living room. Billy’s in the mood to fight. He joins his father and looks at him with disdain.

“What?”

Neil doesn’t take the bait, eyes slowly moving to Billy from the television. Billy hates when his dad does this reverse-psychology shit, when he can tell Billy’s looking to get hit and holds back.

It’s almost _worse_ than when his dad loses it.

“You still tutoring that kid?” Neil asks, cigarette perched in his mouth, the ash threatening to fall onto his shirt.

Billy huffs, lies about it. “On and off. Why?”

Neil has the remote in hand, aimed at the tv but he’s not doing anything with it. “He’s the one with the nice car, right? The one that watches Max sometimes?”

“ _Yes_ , why?” Billy snaps.

Neil takes the cigarette out of his mouth, licks his teeth, pauses long enough _just_ to piss Billy off. “Kid’s been circling the block for the last half hour.”

Billy deflates a little, doesn’t expect it. “W-what?”

Neil’s smile is _mean_ , like he caught Billy. “Tell him to fuck off or I’m getting my gun.”

His dad is _such_ an asshole.

Billy goes over to the door, rips it open and steps outside. It’s snowing again, this time heavier but it’s still not going to stick around long.

He slips back into the house and grabs his shoes, tugs them on and walks down to the sidewalk. Sure enough, turning the block and heading his way is Steve Harrington.

Billy flips him off as he approaches. It’s his fun little way of flagging Steve down.

The car stops and the window rolls down. “Get in.” Steve tells him.

Billy grits his teeth. “Not even if you _paid_ me.”

“Fine. I’ll get out.” Steve says, begins to pull the car to the side like he’s going to park.

“No. _No,_ don't. My dad’s going to _shoot_ you.” Billy says, takes a few steps towards the car.

“Stop being so fucking dramatic.” Steve snaps at him.

“You’re a pain in the ass, ya know that?” Billy grumbles and quickly strides over to the car, opens the passenger door and gets inside.

Steve drives, doesn’t say anything and Billy doesn’t either. Not until he realizes Steve’s got _Christmas_ music playing.

He reaches over and shuts it off. After a few seconds Steve turns it back on.

Billy glares at him. “Look, what do you _want_?”

“I figured it was time to talk.”

“Oh, okay, I forgot I was on your schedule. Also forgot I owe you anything, especially a chance to _talk_.”

“Is Max still your sister?” Steve asks like he’s talking to a child.

“Fuck off.” Billy bites at him.

“She is, right? Cause that means we’re still going to see each other. So stop being such a dick and let’s figure this out.”

“Nothing to figure out. I’m done.” Billy says icily and it...it _hurts_ to say.

“Done.” Steve repeats, cheeks blooming red, eyes angry, going back and forth between Billy and the road.

“Done.” Billy confirms, finality in his tone.

Steve stops at an intersection and Billy gets out of the car, doesn’t care how far he is from home or that he only has a long-sleeve shirt on.

Steve’s yelling after him but Billy doesn’t look back.

He hears the squeal of tires, knows Steve made a u-turn, it’s accompanied shortly with the slam of a car door.

Then footsteps.

A hand on his shoulder.

He’s _ready_ for this.

Billy turns on him, brings his fist around fast and checks Steve right on the nose.

Harrington stumbles back, shouts, grabs his face. He’s doubling over and there’s blood dripping into the snow.

“Fuck!” Steve shouts.

If he’s disoriented he doesn’t show it. He stands straight and lunges at Billy, no fists, just open palms, using his weight to knock Billy to the ground.

He lands on his back, not expecting it. Steve’s on top of him, landing blows to his face.

Billy smiles, can taste the blood in his mouth. Steve’s yelling as he hits him and it seems to be adding fuel to the fire. Billy’s vision spots and he can’t catch his breath but he’s not going to lose to Harrington _again_.

Billy gets an arm up, manages to block some of the hits.

Steve’s all limbs and Billy manages to reach up and grab his chin. He squeezes hard and Steve grapples for his fingers. It gives Billy long enough to sit up a little, push Steve off him hard.

They both get to their feet and hold their fists up but Steve is still all over the place, throwing himself at Billy who dodges once, twice, then swings and hits Steve on the shoulder, knocking him aside.

“Fuck off, Harrington!” Billy shouts.

Steve pants, hands on his knees and stares at Billy, ignores the blood dripping from his nose. They’re both busted up, hair wild and eyes bright like they’re _enjoying_ themselves.

Billy’s used to it, gets a little thrill these days when he catches the sight of blood.

“Don't come near me again.” Billy’s shuddering from the cold, not from Harrington’s weak attempt at a fight.

“I’m _sorry,_ ” Steve tries to talk fast but Billy turns and starts running away, _sprinting_.

“Hargrove!” Steve shouts after him.

Billy doesn’t turn around.

 

_When the night was full of terrors_

_And your eyes were filled with tears_

_When you had not touched me yet_

_Oh, take me back to the night we met_

* * *

 

Over Thanksgiving break he spends a lot of time in his room, dick in hand, and much to his disappointment -- thinking of Steve; his long fingers, the velvety smooth suction of his mouth. He fantasizes about fucking Steve hard, then slowly, then hard again until Steve turns him over to ride him out of frustration and need.

He thinks about Steve fucking him too; he closes his eyes tight and wishes he didn’t want it but Steve’s dick's so perfect and Billy had been teetering on asking for it before everything blew up in his face. The rhythm Billy has going falters a little when he thinks about Steve getting a hand in his hair and holding him up, making him take it while Billy begs.

His orgasm is good, but his eyes are wet after the comedown, cause he knows it will never happen.

He spends more time with Tommy and Carol and realizes he honestly _hates_ them. He thinks about hunting down someone from the basketball team to hang out with, at least they wouldn’t have some bitch constantly in their lap. Maybe.

But then he tunes into what Carol’s been saying, talking about how that girl Steve fucked has done nothing but mope around for the last few weeks because Steve won’t ask her to come over anymore, even though he’s still as nice as can be.

And Billy’s eyes widen, and he suddenly realizes something.

 _“Carol!”_ He says triumphantly.

She whips her head around, looks at him in confusion, like she’d forgotten he’d even been there. “What?”

“You _know_ about the shit that goes on around school, don't you?” He doesn’t let her answer. “Yeah...yeah, you’re a _huge_ gossip.”

Her face falls, like she’s offended but he barrels on. “Like, you would know who that ginger _fuck_ is.”

“Who?” She asks.

He comes up with a plan, thinks of it quick to save his own ass. “Uh. I think Harrington’s...into some hardcore drugs and shit. I don't _care_ but it’s affecting the...the team. So I need to know if this guy’s his dealer. Lanky fuck with red hair, a bit long.”

She looks down, jaw set. She’s _thinking_.

“Oh!” Her face brightens. “You mean Grant.”

Billy shrugs, appears nonchalant but his stomach does flips. “Maybe.”

She laughs, full with her head tipped back. “He’s not a drug dealer, he used to be Steve’s best friend. He’s been in Europe since freshman year.”

“He’s a senior?” Billy asks.

“He’s _graduated_. He did some foreign-exchange thing, he’s got money like Steve does. Yeah, I think he just got back. Him and Harrington used to be _best_ friends, yeah, he got back into town a couple weeks ago.”

Billy nods, absorbing the information.

Tommy is picking at his cuticles, pulling at the skin and watching blood spot on his fingers. “I heard he’s a fag.”

Billy’s hatred multiplies. It’s _possible_ , that he and Steve had been more than friends, right? Steve could’ve outright _lied_ to him when he told Billy he’d never thought about boys before.

He thinks about Grant kissing Steve and crushes his empty pack of cigarettes in his hand, tossing it across the room.

Carol laughs again. “Probably is, he never had a girlfriend while he was here.”

Tommy snorts. “Yeah, and you know those Europeans. Bet Grant got quite the _education_ over there.” He says it with disgust forming on his face.

Billy lets them make jokes, lets them laugh and jeer but doesn’t respond.

No, he can only feel his blood boiling hotter and his hands clenching harder.

 

_I had all and then most of you_

_Some and now none of you_

_Take me back to the night we met_

* * *

 

Thanksgiving is hollow and fake. He ignores the way Susan tries to dote on him throughout dinner, gives him extra green bean casserole cause she knows it’s his favorite. Neil doesn’t say much. Max pokes at her food, bored. It’s a picture-perfect image from absolute _hell_.

Then the phone rings.

They all look up at it.

“We’re not answering that, it’s a _holiday_.” Neil says sternly.

Everyone looks back at their food., silent.

The phone continues to ring. Tension stinks up the room. Billy flicks his eyes up and sees the vein protruding on Neil’s head. He’d think it was funny if he wasn’t brooding so much.

The ringing stops. No one makes a sound but Billy can hear the relief all the same, feels how the room relaxes.

Then the phone rings again.

Susan moves but Neil slams his fork down. “No. _I’ll_ get it.”

He pats his mouth with his napkin, tosses it beside his plate and goes over to the receiver, rips it off the wall.

“What? It’s Thanksgiving and if you’re selling something -- ”

He goes quiet for a moment. Billy doesn’t breathe. Slowly, _very_ slowly, Neil turns and looks at Billy, eyes dark and narrow.

“What’s the boy done _now_?” He asks, voice barely above a menacing whisper.

Billy’s blood runs cold, and he quickly thinks about who could be on the other end of the line, about what he might’ve done in the past couple weeks to warrant a phone call to his house.

Neil thrusts the phone out towards Billy. “It’s the chief of police. Apparently he’s concerned about a classmate of yours and needs to speak to you. Says you might know where _he_ is because you guys are _friends_.”

Billy blinks, stands and takes the phone, isn’t ready for Hopper saying gruffly in his ear,

“Steve is gone.”

Billy opens his mouth to respond, but the words catch up with him and he’s caught off-guard. “What? The hell are you -- ”

“Kid, _listen_ to me. Steve Harrington is missing and I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with him. Did he say anything to you about leaving? Did he seem upset the last time you saw him?”

Billy looks back and forth between Neil and Max who are both staring at him. Neil looks like he’s ready to throw the turkey at Billy’s head but Max looks worried, sick to her stomach.

“I swear I have no idea.” He says as evenly as possible.

“We’re sweeping the town. I know it’s the holidays, but we’d really appreciate any help we can get.”

“Where are you?” Billy asks.

Hopper’s at Steve’s house.

Billy promises he’ll be there and hangs up.

Neil’s behind him when he turns, has a throat around his neck before Billy can exhale. He’s shoved back against the wall, Neil’s face right next to his.

“You think you’re gonna walk out on your family on _Thanksgiving_ to go search for a _boy?_ ” His dad says hauntingly, like he thinks it’s _funny_.

“Dad, listen.” Billy chokes out. “Steve is -- he’s the one who babysits Max -- ”

“Neil.” Susan’s on her feet, staring at Billy with wide, worried eyes. “Steve is a nice boy. I’m sure his parents are worried _sick._  Let Billy help them.”

Neil’s fingers tighten around Billy’s neck, then all at once let him go, pushing away.

“Go then. Go find your _friend_ if that’s really more important to you.”

Billy can see the wheels turning in Neil’s head, can’t imagine how he’ll have to pay for this later, but he doesn’t care. He finds a jacket -- his denim one has been missing for weeks -- and gets his boots on.

He drives to the Harrington house.

Steve’s car isn’t in the driveway. It’s comforting to know Steve might just be off for a drive, rather than _gone_. He tries to keep his breathing steady.

Billy goes straight inside, doesn’t knock. Hopper’s with Steve’s parents in the living room. Mary’s white as a ghost, Patrick’s rubbing her back but looks just as troubled. Past the living room, in the kitchen, an untouched Thanksgiving meal sits at the table.

“Billy.” Hopper says as a greeting.

Steve’s parents look over at him and Mary bursts into tears.

Trying to be sensitive, Hopper holds out a hand and touches her shoulder. “M’am, I know this is hard for you but I need to look in Steve’s room, see if I can find anything that might let us know where he’s gone.”

Mary nods shortly. She leads Hopper and Billy up to his room, opens the door and wails harder.

Hopper looks at them solemnly. “Sir, why don't you take your wife downstairs. I promise I’ll make this quick.”

Billy waits until they’re out of earshot before speaking. “What did they tell you?”

Hopper sighs. “Kid’s been gone for a couple of days. When he didn’t show up for Thanksgiving, they called me.”

“They waited _days?_ ” Billy repeats.

Hopper shrugs, “They thought he was with a friend. They thought he was with _you_.”

Billy doesn’t respond, the image of _Grant_ pops up in his mind but no, there’s no _way_. Hopper would’ve checked out everyone, from Nancy to Dustin to Steve’s former best friend who literally _just_ got back into town. Billy stays in the doorway, lets Hopper look around. He’s standing beside Steve’s bed, looking at something on the floor.

He bends down and when he stands back up, he’s holding Billy’s denim jacket.

“What the…” Billy trails off. “That’s...mine.” He says it without thinking.

Hopper looks over at him, eyes suspicious. “Hargrove, if you had _anything_ to do with this and I find out you’re lying -- ”

“I’m not.” Billy blurts. “I must’ve left it here, or he must’ve taken it, but I don't -- ”

Hopper stalks towards him, pointing an accusing finger. “If you’re _lying_ to me and I find that boy’s body -- ”

“ _Shut up_!” Billy shouts.

Hopper is about to respond but his radio cuts him off and Hopper hits the reply button, “You sure? Great, thanks.”

He looks at Billy apprehensively. “We found his car. Let’s go.”

Hopper tells Steve’s parents. They get in Hopper’s police car, Billy follows behind. The sirens blare and Billy tailgates him the whole time, they go double the speed limit.

They get to the edge of town where there’s other police cars parked. A trail leading into the woods is blocked off with police tape. Billy slams the door of his car and starts running, despite Hopper yelling at him to wait.

It’s not far into the woods when he sees the clearing. Men standing around Steve’s car jack-hammered into a tree, the front smashed in and doors open. The windshield is cracked.

There’s no body. He’s not _there._

Billy runs deeper into the woods.

“Steve!” He shouts, voice pitchy and strained.

He runs faster, eyes scanning the forest, trying to see if Steve is ducking behind trees, playing a game of hide and seek. He’s panting, not from exhaustion but from _fear,_  from disbelief and worry.

“Steve!” He bellows, hands cupped around his mouth, eyes aching to see into the dark woods.

But it’s dead quiet, aside from the police officers rushing to catch up with him.

He can’t process it, but it’s true all the same.

Steve Harrington is _gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you SO MUCH to my friend mariah for helping me out with this  
> OCTOBER song is Trouble by Halsey  
> NOVEMBER song is The Night We Met by Lord Huron  
> harringrove tumblr: harrygroves  
> main: valkyrie0cain


	5. DECEMBER & JANUARY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major dub-con warning.

_The day is incomplete_  
_The thoughts of total defeat_  
_I don't know what is happening to me_  
_Or if I'll die, 'cause I just never sleep_

* * *

 

 

**DECEMBER**

 

It’s been seventeen days and Steve Harrington’s face is plastered over every available space in town. He’s on milk cartons, splashed across the news, whispered on the tips of tongues.

No one _knows_ about Steve and Billy and he’d like to keep it that way. Throughout his life, Billy’s had a lot of practice rearranging his features to form an indifferent expression and he wears it like a mask.

So when Billy is standing at a bus stop staring at a flyer stapled to a wooden pole, Steve’s face grinning back at him, he doesn’t know what to think. Because someone’s drawn a dick near his chin. And it makes him wonder if someone _knows_.

Billy swallows hard around a lump in his throat that refuses to go away,

He tears the flyer down, crumples it up and shoves it in his pocket.

Walking the two miles home, in the freezing air and falling snow, Billy doesn’t feel a thing.

He’s been numb for weeks.

There’s no sensation in his fingertips as he brings a cigarette to his lips, lighting it up. He doesn’t need it, but it’s something to do, the illusion of warm smoke filling him everywhere he’s empty.

The night of Steve’s disappearance replays in his mind on a loop, is all that he thinks about lately.

_On his hands and knees, damp mud soaking through his jeans, birds squawking overhead at the activity, Hopper coming up behind him and putting a large, warm hand on his shoulder._

_“We’ll find him.”_

_Billy with screwed-up eyes, refusing to cry, heart hammering in his chest, in his ears, feeling the pulse in his palms._

_He’s hyperventilating, can’t stand up. The mud is sucking him under, the earth swallowing him whole._

_A thought crosses his mind, somewhere in the back of his brain a voice whispers “it’s okay, this isn’t a bad place to die.”_

_But that’s crazy. Steve is out there somewhere, possibly hurt._

_And Billy’s succumbed to the fact that he genuinely cares about the kid, as self-destructive as that is. As much as Steve fucks him up inside, fucks with him, fucks him over._

_He’s like all of those stupid girls._

Billy gets to his house and kicks the snow off his boots before going inside.

The heat is cranked high but isn’t even registering in his body. He’s _that_ cold.

Neil barely looks up from his paper as Billy walks through the living room. Susan is at the kitchen table, phone stretched from the wall to her ear where she sits. She’s talking in a hushed voice, words so quick they’re blurring together.

Billy knows she’s talking to Steve’s parents.

She has been since the disappearance, has made platters of sandwiches, brothy soups and sponge cakes, stayed with them for hours.

He hasn’t gone back to the Harrington house, hasn’t driven by it once.

_Hopper had followed Billy back home the night they found Steve’s car. He brought Billy inside and Neil was waiting with his arms crossed._

_Billy tried to explain but Hopper cut him off. “Sir, this is a very serious matter. Last year...some kids went missing and not all of them made it back home. We need all the man-power we can get. You’re more than welcome to join us,” Billy watched as Neil barely contained a snort, “but your son wants to help and we could really use him. You must be proud to have a great kid like him. You don't know how lucky you are.”_

_Billy knows Hopper thinks he’s helping, but that last bit comes off as condescending and Neil’s eyes find Billy, look a little murderous._

_He grunts out, “Yes, alright,” and Hopper nods at him, pats Billy on the back, and leaves._

_His dad doesn’t give him any shit. Billy doesn’t care either way. If he’d gotten a couple punches for it, wouldn’t have made a damn difference to him. It might’ve been nice to feel something other than the sour ache in his heart._

Billy pokes his head into the kitchen and Susan sees him, nods that she’ll be done soon.

She knows what he wants.

He waits in his room, peels off the thick leather jacket that’s got snow melting around the shoulders and gathered at the buttons on his chest, then the denim one underneath. It’s not thick enough for the winter weather, but Billy can’t stop wearing it, can’t stop imagining Steve fingering the cuffs, maybe sleeping with it that last night...hours before-

He hangs it on the back of his door and walks down the hallway. His toes hurt as blood tries to circulate. He barely feels it.

In the kitchen, Susan is just hanging up the phone. She walks by him with her eyes sad and reproachful, and tentatively reaches out to touch his shoulder as he passes her.

He pauses, let’s her have the attempt to comfort him, but doesn’t truly acknowledge it.

Once he’s alone he calls the police station, a nightly occurrence.

“Hawkins Police Department.” The tired, pinched voice of the front desk woman comes over the line.

“Hopper, please. It’s -- ”

“Hey kid, yeah, let me connect you.”

He purses his lips together, hates that she _knows_ who it is, but he can’t be worried about that right now.

“Billy?” Hopper’s gruff voice greets him.

“Yeah. Anything.”

Hopper sighs. “No. I told you I’d call you if I found anything.”

He puts his hand up on the wall by the receiver, leans his head against the back of it, feels the rough, frostbitten skin with his forehead. “I...I just needed to check.”

“Well, he still hasn’t made any attempt to withdraw money from his bank account, we’ve got no evidence from his car, no fingerprints, no hair, it’s like it’s brand new. And no one’s contacted us with a sighting. It’s like he’s just...gone.”

Billy hesitates. “And you looked into that Grant kid?”

He can hear the frustration in Hopper’s voice. “Billy, the kid’s clean. Not even a speeding ticket. He doesn’t know _anything_.”

“Did you bring him in for questioning too?” Billy asks, a little bitchy about it.

_They’d brought Billy in straight from the woods. A guy that was so skinny his police belt had a handmade hole in it just to hold his uniform together came in with a styrofoam cup of shitty coffee, pushed it across the table and sat with Billy for a couple of hours, tried warming up to him, asked him questions about his home life and school and basketball. Billy didn’t ask how they knew so much about him._

_He was in the system for shit back in California. His record was a good read, probably passed around the whole department._

_Hopper had come in next, grilled him for another couple hours but he brought cigarettes with him, let Billy smoke through most of the pack as they talked._

_Billy didn’t explicitly tell him what he and Steve had going on, but Hopper chipped away at it with increasingly intrusive questions._

_“You spent Halloween together? You were tutoring him? You stayed the night?”_

_Yes, yes, yes._

_Hopper is quiet for awhile, stares at him as Billy blows out smoke that is suffocating them in a room with only one vent._

_“When was the last time you saw him?”_

_“At school, in the halls. I told you that.”_

_It’s not a lie. He did see Steve once but turned on his heel and booked it down the hallway._

_He’s not stupid, he’s not going to tell Hopper that they’d gotten into it right before Steve disappeared, that’s not going to help them find out where he is._

_“You know the longer he’s gone the higher the chance is that we’ll find him...not alive. So. Anything you can tell us would be helpful.”_

_Billy pulls hard at the cigarette, stubs it out on the table before blowing the smoke in Hopper’s face._

_“All I know is that wasn’t sleeping.”_

Hopper says that they questioned Grant, Nancy, Tommy, everyone Steve had been in contact with.

Billy hangs up after muted farewells, and stays slumped against the kitchen wall until he hears a small, feeble voice behind him,

“Nothing?”

He turns and looks at Max, face red and puffy. She cries constantly, circles starting to form under her eyes that she’s _too_ young for.

He shakes his head once before retiring to his room, shuts the door behind him. They haven’t talked much and he doesn’t _want_ to.

Max is a reminder, but then again -- so is everything else.

  
  
  
  
  
  


There’s search parties, Billy’s at every one of them as soon as school lets out and he’s the last one to leave. They spend hours searching the woods.

His throat goes raw yelling Steve’s name.

The first couple of searches are packed with people trying to console each other because that’s what people do in a crisis -- make it about them. It’s _sickening_ and he glares at anyone that tries to come near him. Housewives exchange casseroles and dab at their wet, makeuped eyes and reapply when they think no one's looking. Everyone’s given flashlights because even in daylight, the forest gets darker the further you go in where the trees thicken menacingly. The police bring dogs to try and catch a scent.

A bunch of kids from school are there. They look at Billy like he’s grown a second head, like why the _fuck_ is Billy Hargrove looking for Steve Harrington? But Billy ignores them, tries to wipe away the stain of red that floods his face.

During one of the morning huddles in which people are designated to certain parts of town in packs, he makes eye contact with Nancy. She nods at him reproachfully. He stares back icily for a few seconds before giving a sharp jerk of his head. Jonathan tightens his grip around her and she looks at him fondly. It makes something like jealousy burn under Billy’s skin and he’s starting to think that the Byers boy would look good with a few bruises on his pale face.

What really pisses Billy off -- more than the _everything_ of it all -- is that none of the brats show up to help. Not even Dustin who panted after Steve like a dog, itching to find out how to be _just_ like him. They’re nowhere and it gives Billy a migraine right between his eyes, at the apex of his forehead.

Days go by, then a week, and another one and the search parties dwindle in attendance more and more each time.

Christmas comes and goes. Susan tries to force some festivity into the day but Billy stays in his room and when Neil bangs on his door, he slips out the window, leaves in his car and drives to the city limits.

He sits next to the sign for Hawkins Indiana and smokes a joint. His own Christmas treat. He’d been pretty straight when it came to weed and booze because of Steve’s disappearance, wanted a clear head so he could stay alert.

But time was passing.

Billy wished he could stop the clock.

They’re all back in the woods the following week. Hopper’s acting weird, like he’s got somewhere else to be. It grates Billy in a way he can’t express. He looks around like he can’t be bothered to search, kicks at leaves and twigs like an impatient child.

“You giving up?” Billy finally asks one day.

Hopper sighs. “Just feel like we’re on the wrong side of this.”

Billy rubs his face impatiently. “Well, where the fuck do you want us to look?”

Hopper studies him, _appraising_ him. “Okay, we need to talk. But not here. Come to my cabin tomorrow.”

Billy doesn’t like the idea of wasting time. But something about Hopper’s expression has Billy nodding in agreement.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _We're sick like animals, we play pretend_  
_you're just a cannibal and I'm afraid I won't get out alive_  
_No I won't sleep tonight_

* * *

 

**JANUARY**

 

It’s a funny picture, Billy on the couch and the rugrats sitting across from him, Hopper standing next to them with his hands on his hips. Jane is in the center of the group, eyeing him wearily.

“So. Is someone going to start?” Billy asks.

Then they all start talking at once and Billy can’t distinguish any words between all their jabbering.

“Cut it out!” Hopper yells at them, quieting the bunch in a second. “ _I’ll_ start.”

Hopper starts pacing as he slowly begins to tell a very long story.

The kids interject a few times to offer information Hopper never saw first-hand.

Jane is quiet, eyes unblinking, trained on Billy.

When they’re done, when everyone stops talking, Billy leaves the cabin.

Doesn’t say anything, just gets up and leaves.

Max is on his heels, chasing him down and yelling, “Billy, _stop_!”

He doesn’t, keeps walking, not in any particular direction, just stomping forward.

A lot of things suddenly make sense and it’s overwhelming; Steve’s indifference towards Billy ruining his reputation as King, how Steve wasn’t sleeping, _real monsters_. He thinks about the exchanged looks between the kids, the throw-away comments, how he felt like he never knew what was going on.

And that was true. He _hadn’t_ known what was going on.

His stomach screws up, he stops, doubles over with his hands on his knees and feels bile rising in the his throat.

“We can _find_ him!” Max shouts from behind him.

He turns, faces her before yelling, “You said people _died_.”

She’s red in the face from the cold, breath coming out in puffs, “Will can _see_ him. He’s still...connected to it, the Upside Down. He knows Steve’s there.”

He’s shaking, and for the first time in almost a month, he can process how _cold_ he feels.

Her words kickstart his brain and he hears what she’s saying. “He’s...alive?”

She nods. “And you didn’t even let us tell you the best part.”

“Which is?” He snaps impatiently.

“Dustin has maps.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


About a half dozen rolled-up blueprint-sized pieces of paper land on the table with a smack.

“Kid, how the _hell_ do you have these?” Hopper asks angrily.

Dustin scratches at his head. “Well, after they shut the Lab down, I went back in to do a little digging, kinda just wanted a souvenir. And I found these.”

“You went _back_ there?” Hopper screeches.

“Yeah, and apparently it’s a good thing I did cause, uh, _maps_.”

He unrolls one of the tubes, lays it out on the table and holds the corners down with random things around the cabin; a snow globe, a full beer, a steak knife.

“This is Hawkins.” Mike says immediately.

“Yes, but it’s not _our_ Hawkins. _This_ is -- ”

“The Upside Down.” Jane finishes, touching the map with her fingers lightly.

“Only what they’ve explored. They have entire counties mapped out. It’s not hard to figure out, it’s the same geography-wise, but there’s -- ”

“Monsters.” Billy says quietly.

“I couldn’t find a key but I’ve figured out most of the symbols from what we’ve already seen.”

There are small drawings of nests and Dustin has scrawled next to them (hive minds, Demodogs), a couple big figures that signify monsters (Demogorgons), and these weird song-notes scattered around with carefully drawn question marks next to them. “I can’t, however, figure out what these are.”

Jane puts her finger on one, presses into it. “Soundlikes.”

Dustin looks at her sharply. “What?”

“Soundlikes. Monsters who repeat what they hear. Very dangerous.”

Dustin is quiet for a moment, then, “Well _that_ isn’t a very clever name.”

She shrugs.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had these?” Mike asks angrily.

“Figured the less people that knew, the better. Till something came up.”

“But how can we get there?” Billy asks.

Dustin points at Jane. “Her.”

Jane shakes her head. “No.”

“You can _open_ gates.” Dustin says.

“That’s way too dangerous.” Hopper says.

“It’s either that or we let Steve die there.”

Will slams his hands on the table. It makes everyone jump. “No. We can’t let him stay there.” He says it very firmly, his mouth in a horrible scowl that darkens his features. It makes him look years older.

He nods at Will. “We’re gonna find him.” Will nods back. “Max said you can _see_ him?” Billy prompts.

Now Will looks uncomfortable. “I...yeah, I can see him.”

Billy doesn’t want to ask in a room full of people. But he doesn’t have a choice. “Is he...okay?”

Will inhales sharply. “He’s...scared. He’s stumbling around a lot, can’t find his way out.”

Billy hates that Steve’s in some other fucking _world_ and he’s helpless to do anything about it.

“It’s been a _month_. How is he surviving?” Billy asks.

Will shakes his head. “Time doesn’t...work the same way there. Steve probably feels like he’s been gone for a few hours, a day or two at most.” He hesitates. “But that can be even worse. Every minute there is...it’s just…” Will’s hands are shaking. “We need to find him. We need to go in there and get him back.”

Billy nods, the kids join in. Hopper still isn’t convinced.

“ _None_ of you, and let me stress this point -- **_none_ ** of you are going in there. Billy can come with, but that’s it.” He says.

The kids want to fight, Billy can see it in the way their mouths turn down, they tense up like they’re going to argue.

“I’m coming.” Jane says firmly.

Hopper and Jane make eye contact and appear to have a silent argument.

Hopper caves, says she can go, “but that’s _it_.”

The air in the room changes, everyone’s geared up. “Billy. Put on some coffee. We’re gonna figure out a game plan.” Hopper says, sits down at the table and bends over the map.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The kids keep telling him things. Parroting at him that --

“It’s dangerous, you need a weapon.”

“You could die so stay near Jane.”

“It’s _really_ gross there, try not to inhale too much of the air.”

He can’t keep the advice straight. How’s he supposed to stay stealthy in a hazmat suit or look for Steve if he can’t see through thick goggles.

Hopper’s nervous. He smokes cigarettes one after another, keeps running his hands through his hair causing him to look even more disheveled than usual.

Jane is...fine. It’s disorienting. Billy wants to ask her what _she_ thinks he should do but he doesn’t trust his voice to not wobble.

Because big, bad Billy Hargrove is fucking _terrified_.

They pick a cold day. The usual January thaw has skipped Hawkins and there’s ice everywhere. It clings to the brittle branches behind Hopper’s cabin, the air so cold that it almost hurts to breathe.

Billy watches Jane in her brown jacket that’s too big hold her hand up and concentrate.

There’s no shaking, no sound, it’s right out of a science-fiction novel the way the riff in space opens.

One minute he’s staring at a bundle of trees and the next there’s a void, some sort of fluid tear that looks like night is encroaching on the day. It’s big, twice the size of Billy.

Hopper’s seen this before so he’s not doing that whole jaw-dropping thing that Billy’s got going on.

They’re both in raincoats with dishwasher gloves that go up the arm, galoshes on their feet. Hopper’s got his gun, tried offering Billy one but he refused to take it. Guns never sat right with Billy. He’s got a metal shovel. It’s laughable.

Hopper moves forward first.

Jane’s not wearing any protective clothing. She insisted on it, needed to be open and ready to strike with...whatever powers she has, Billy’s still unclear about that.

The way they slide through realities is nauseating. Billy wants to throw up but he’s got a bandanna wrapped tight around his face and it’s not an option to remove it.

The Upside Down is dark and terrifying. There’s blue light everywhere creating a haunting aura of uncertainty and dismay. The air is moist, putrid, it comes through the bandanna like it’s not even there.

Hopper’s voice shocks him out of his state of immobility. “Steve!”

They begin shouting, Jane on their heels, quiet and observant.

There’s movement, sounds of things shifting in the woods, weird metallic clicking and slick, wet sounds.

They keep shouting. Jane’s not scared, she’s got their backs so they bravely march forward.

The ground gives a little with each step, like the whole world is alive, shifting to accommodate them -- or maybe it’s going on the defense and is going to suck them down, bury them alive.

They don't go too far, Hopper won’t allow it. His plan is simple: open gate, check the surrounding area. If they don't find Steve, leave immediately. Close gate.

Rinse. Repeat.

The obscurity of the Upside Down never dies.

Each gate makes Billy shiver.

His clothes reek of the place. No matter how many times he washes them the smell doesn’t leave.

His galoshes are caked with dirt that’s grimy and wet, almost like sand.

They see things, rabbits with razor-sharp teeth, birds with extra legs, things that Billy can’t identify.

There are things that look like snails but they’re easily seven times the size, they ooze along the ground and it’s almost impossible to step out of the mess they leave behind.

Jane waves her hands and whatever’s in front of them slides away, becomes uninterested in them almost immediately.

There’s bigger things that they can’t see hiding in the shadows, watching, waiting, smarter than the animals in the real world, smart enough to see that Jane is dangerous.

The weapons they carry are practically useless. Billy wishes they had a machete to cut through some of the brambles.

They sit with Will when they’re in the real world, ask him to try and describe where Steve is.

Billy has to hold back asking for every detail of how he’s doing.

Will can only see glimpses, mere seconds of Steve running, tripping over curled up roots, hiding behind trees and cowering in bushes.

“So he’s still in the woods?” Hopper asks.

“I think so. He can’t find his way out. He keeps getting turned around.”

The kid’s small and fragile but he’s got more balls than Billy ever had. He’s brave, strong, and Billy wants to tell him that.

But he doesn’t. He’s not that guy.

Real life becomes meaningless. School is a buzz, he can’t hear what anyone says to him. He responds too late during conversations and people start avoiding him.

His dad doesn’t ask where he goes for hours on end. Max doesn’t come with all the time, none of the kids do. They seem to understand this is Billy’s thing.

Jane is the only one who is always present.

They search for weeks. Billy becomes obsessed with Dustin’s maps, sees them behind his eyelids, in his dreams.

Not that he’s been sleeping.

He takes over as the resident insomniac but no one asks why. Hopper has the police force continue the search parties even though he knows they’ll be fruitless. Can’t have the Harrington’s thinking that they’re giving up, especially with the money they’re throwing around.

Helicopters fly through town, search rivers and fields for any sign of someone they’ll never find.

They’ve almost searched the whole inverted woods by the end of January.

Two months.

He’s been gone two months.

The woods aren’t _that_ big, but they recheck, cover their tracks ten-fold. Billy won’t give up, he’s mindless with it.

He starts looking forward to the smell, the permanent blue light, the eyes on him from the shadows.

He wants to take a part of it with him, a rock or a piece of bark, something he can carry around, connect him to where Steve is. Hopper tells him not to. Jane agrees, tells him that the Upside Down has no place in the real world.

She hates going there, Billy can tell. Every day is wearing on her just like it is to him.

He starts hugging her when they end their days.

She’s unresponsive the first couple times but eventually her thin arms wrap around him and squeeze back.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Billy’s sitting in his Camaro, parked at the quarry the first time it happens.

His radio switches channels. It turns over to some shitty pop song Billy doesn’t recognize. He frowns and turns it off, then back on, doesn’t think twice about it.

He’s beginning to lose hope and hates himself for it, wants to tap on the gas till his car tips over the edge and he flies into oblivion.

He’s starting to resent going to the Upside Down. He’s desperate to find any trace of Steve, a ripped piece of clothing or sign of human blood.

 _Should I Stay or Should I Go_ is playing.

Static cuts it off, and then _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ is coming out of his radio.

God, now he’s got to bring his car in for a tune-up.

He shuts it off, turns it back on but the rock station doesn’t stay for more than a second. Then it switches again, to jazz, again to oldies, back to rock, then it lands on the news.

_“The missing boy from Hawkins still hasn’t been found, police have no leads. Again, if you’re just tuning in, you are asked to keep an eye out for a brunette male, 19, brown eyes, 5’11’’, named Steve Harrington --_

_Steve Harrington --_

_Steve Harrington_

_Steve Harrington -- ”_

Billy doesn’t think, just reacts, his fist connects with the face of his radio, over and over.

His knuckles are bleeding but the sound cuts off.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Billy almost shits his pants when there’s an otherworldly sound coming out of his radio, like an old carnival carousel starting up, a ghostly sound that makes his arms crawl with goosebumps.

It’s the news report _again_ , stuck on Steve’s name, skipping like a record.

Billy stares at it, the mangled box, the sound doesn’t blip, doesn’t stop and he gets it, it crashes into him like a train.

This is Steve, connecting with him.

He gingerly reaches out, touches it.

“Steve?” He whispers.

The sound dies, cuts off suddenly and then his car is honking on its own, an inconsistent series of beeps. It's morse code, he knows it, but he doesn't know how to interpret it, doesn't know what Steve's trying to tell him.

He’s panting, eyes wild.

“Steve. You’re here?”

He needs to get Hopper and Jane and they need to open the gate now, right fucking now.

“Just. Just hold on, okay? Stay where you are. _Please_.”

He drives recklessly, swerves around cars and gets to the police station.

Hopper’s at his desk when Billy busts in.

“I. Found. Him.” He says between ragged breaths.

“What?” Hop says, gets to his feet immediately.

“Quarry. He. My car. Look, it doesn’t matter, I _know_ he’s there. We gotta get Jane, we gotta go _right now_.”

The next few hours, well...Billy can’t describe the panic that gives his body the adrenaline to bust through the gate Jane opens and start running, no bandanna, no shovel, nothing but him feeling the dead air around him.

Jane shouts after him, it’s the loudest he’s ever heard her be but he doesn’t stop or check to see if they’re running after him.

“Steve!” He yells.

And it’s like having someone dump ice water over him when he hears somewhere in the distance, “Billy!”

He runs, further in than he’s ever gone.

The inverted quarry is large, a huge hole with black water at the bottom and he runs the edge of it, his lungs burn.

Billy sees him come out from behind a tree.

He sees Steve.

Gangly and filthy and terrified-looking.

But it’s Steve.

He runs harder until he’s about a yard away, and then mere feet.

Inches.

And he’s holding him, making sure he’s real.

Steve’s a solid weight, weak against him, knees giving out and collapsing into Billy.

“Steve?” He says it like he’s confused.

“How did you -- how are you _here_?”

“Jane.” He says, mouth in Steve’s hair.

They’ve caught up to Billy and Steve and Jane burrows into Steve’s side, Hopper touching his shoulder probably for the same reason Billy was holding him -- to confirm he was _real_.

“Come on, now boys, I mean it. We need to get the fuck out of here.”

Billy doesn’t want to move, wants to stay still in this moment of utter relief but Hopper’s pulling them back, making them move.

Billy has an arm around Steve and he’s not letting go. Jane leads them back to the gate and they pass through.  
  
  
  
  
  


 

Steve falls unconscious the second they entered the real world. Hopper had to help Billy get Steve to police car and they drove to the hospital, brought him in and people were around them in seconds, recognized Steve immediately.

An hour later Steve had an IV drip, he had been severely dehydrated.

He still wasn’t awake. Billy sat in a chair, staring at him. The hospital fought him on it, didn’t think he should be allowed in since he wasn’t family but the Harrington’s had given him permission.

Steve’s mother and father had driven straight to the hospital, sat with Steve and questioned Billy about where he’d found him.

And Billy didn’t know what to say, but Hop _thank god_ had covered for him, said they found him at a motel, that Steve had been experimenting with drugs.

It was a shit story but they bought it, too overwhelmed to look too closely.

They were gone, for a moment, to get Steve some clothes from home but promised they’d be right back.

Billy liked being alone with Steve, could finally look at him again.

He was bruised and scraped, his arm had a bite in it that the doctors couldn’t identify but they patched him up, told Billy he’d live.

And that was enough.

It took hours for Steve to wake up. At one point, when Mrs. Harrington went to use the bathroom, Steve’s dad said, “You really care about him, don't you?”

And Billy...he didn’t know what to think about that.

It took him a few seconds to decide what to say.

He shrugged. “I...guess. Yeah, I do.”

Mr. Harrington nodded. “I can see that. It’s charming, really. My brother’s a gay.”

Billy felt himself turn red with embarrassment.

Mr. Harrington could tell he’d made him uncomfortable, quickly continued. “I think it’s great that my son has someone who loves him so much. Did you know about the drug use?”

Billy shook his head. “I had no idea. I swear. And I promise, if he still wants me after this, I’ll...look after him.”

Mr. Harrington smiled. “Alright. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Billy shook the hand being held out to him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


When Steve finally cracked open his eyes, Mrs. Harrington cried.

His voice was obliterated. He asked for water, his mom brought a cup to his mouth, helped him drink.

Then his eyes found Billy.

Mr. Harrington noticed and told his wife that they should go get the doctor. After they were alone, Billy stood up and walked slowly over to Steve.

He stood next to him, hands in his pockets.

“You found me.” Steve croaked out.

Billy swallowed slowly. “If you weren’t so banged up I’d punch you.”

Steve smiles weakly. “I missed you too.”

“What the fuck happened?” Billy asked.

“I...I don't remember.” Steve said, squinting a little. “How long was I gone?”

“Two months.” Billy said. “I thought…”

He couldn’t say it, didn’t have to judging by the way Steve reached over and took his hand, gave it a squeeze.  
  
  
  
  
  


 

For days, Steve is approached by random strangers on the street and they can comment that they’re so happy he was found.

Steve laughs when Billy tells him about the drug story.

The kids all grapple onto Steve the first time they see him and hold on for a full five minutes.

Billy’s a hero to them. And he thinks that’s fucking hysterical.

He doesn’t _feel_ like a hero. Something’s off with Steve and he can’t figure out what it is. He tells himself it’s that place, that the Upside Down changed him, who wouldn’t be fucked up after spending two months in a blueish hell?

He sleeps at the Harrington house for three days straight, doesn’t care when his dad comes knocking. Mr. Harrington surprises him and tells Neil that Steve is traumatized, that he needs a friend and Billy is helping Steve tremendously by sticking around.

Neil doesn’t buy it, not for a second. Billy can tell because he can hear the yelling from upstairs.

He stays holed up in Steve’s room, only leaves for school and prays for the weekends to come faster.

Steve has night terrors. He tosses and turns, whacks Billy in the face with his arm, screams bloody fucking murder.

He’s never been a nurturer, never felt like he had that gene in him but Steve has brought it out, pulled it forcefully from somewhere deep inside.

It’s domestic. Billy’s never done domestic. It scares the shit out of him.

Billy stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, ankles crossed. He takes a sip of coffee and watches Steve sleep, pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth, then sucks his top one in and gnaws on that.

Steve almost looks normal when he sleeps, like the past couple of months weren’t real. His face is slack, mouth shut but relaxed into an _almost_ smile.

Billy watches him until Steve stirs, eyes twitching then sliding open, finding Billy.

“C’mere.” He says in a sleep-thick voice.

He scratches his chest as Billy walks over to him. “You need something? Water? Food?”

Steve shakes his head a little against the pillow. “Need you.”

Billy hesitates. They hadn’t been in bed together without the intention of sleep since Steve had been found.

He sets his coffee down on the nightstand and Steve shifts over, pulling the blanket down.

Billy climbs in with him.

Steve curls up onto his chest, humming with content.

Billy stays still, let’s Steve arrange himself.

Steve turns his head up and looks at Billy with a kind of hunger that Billy hasn’t seen in a long time.

Steve lunges forward, actually _lunges_ and kisses Billy so hard that it hurts.

Billy’s eyes widen, he pushes at Steve’s arm, looks at him mystified. “You don't have to -- ”

“I want to.” Steve says with a growl, hoists himself to the side till he’s on top of Billy and kisses him again.

Steve tastes like ash, like burnt wood caught out in the rain, smokey and thick. Billy probably tastes like coffee and cigarettes.

Billy lets himself get kissed senseless. Steve licks into his mouth, demands Billy’s tongue on his, sucks it into his mouth and _bites_. Billy groans, legs bending to accommodate Steve better, and he finds Steve hard, dick firmly pressed against Billy’s.

He gasps but Steve isn’t letting him have a moment to comprehend. He moves his hands to Billy’s hips, gets his palms on bare skin and drags his nails down, hooking his fingers into Billy’s pajama pants and pulling them down but abandons the movement cause he can’t stop touching Billy’s hips, the inner skin of his thighs. It’s making electricity crackle where he’s caressing and Billy can’t help how he gives small, involuntary thrusts.

“Steve, stop -- god, stop _touching_ me like that, you need to be resting -- ”

Steve lifts his head, gives Billy an incredulous look. “Are you serious? I’ve been sleeping for days, hooked up to IV’s and interrogated by a very confused police force. This is what I want right now. So shut the fuck up.”

Billy can’t believe that Steve’s being so aggressive and doesn’t know how to reply.

He doesn’t fight the way Steve pulls at his shirt, makes him sit up a little so he can take it off and fling it away. He moves him, gets his palms on Billy’s thighs and spreads them wider, running his hands up till they’re in the crook of Billy’s knees.

He squirms and Steve growls, “Stop moving.”

Billy freezes in surprise, shivers a little, his stomach tightens.

“Hands.” Steve says.

Billy doesn’t understand. “Uh…”

“Put your _hands_ up there,” Steve jerks his chin towards the headboard. “And keep ‘em there.”

Billy’s mouth is a fucking desert, removed of all moisture, unable to talk around his sand dune tongue.

“ _Now_.” Steve says thickly, a slight wobble in his voice, like he’s coming undone, something ready to explode out of his skin and eat Billy alive.

Billy does what he says, slowly raises his hands and lets them rest against the wood.

Steve smiles, wolfish and pleased. He let’s go of Billy’s thighs and moves his hands to Billy’s neck, wrapping them around possessively. Billy opens his mouth to speak, to ask him why, to tell him to stop but Steve shushes him before he can talk.

He doesn’t squeeze, just holds on like Billy’s an anchor, like this is the only way he won’t float up, up and away.

Then Steve shudders, like he’s _surrendering_ to something.

His hands glide down, swift, open-palmed, teasing.

Steve stops at Billy’s nipples, he’s always _hated_ how sensitive they are, how any sort of pressure on them makes him quake.

Steve, apparently, _loves_ it because the second he starts tweaking them and Billy starts moaning, _moving_ , there’s a small half-smile on his face, something clicks behind those glassy, intense eyes and suddenly he looks _hungry_.

Billy jerks his hips up, tries to shift his chest away from Steve’s hands.

“Told you not to move.” Steve’s tone is disappointed, but taunting, like he’s a parent scolding a child for doing something they also find incredibly amusing.

Billy gasps as Steve digs a nail into his right nipple. “S-Stop, I can’t -- when you -- ”

“Shhh, you can do it. Be good for me.” Steve soothes with his voice, like balm over a wound, leaning down and brushing his lips over Billy’s collarbone.

Billy’s face heats up and he turns it away, tucks it against his arm, tries not to whimper as Steve flicks and squeezes, rubs his thumbs over the nubs while they harden. He gets his mouth on them one by one, and Billy arches against him, letting out a broken sob, his head falling back. Steve takes his time licking, sucking, even edging his teeth around them.

Steve is relentless, doesn’t stop touching them whether it’s with his mouth or when he replaces his tongue with fingertips.

Billy starts squirming again, can’t help it. “P-Please, it’s too much, _please_ ,” he begs, and his arms shake, he’s got his palms flat against the headboard but it’s not enough. He needs to dig his fingers into something, give himself more leverage.

Steve lets out a small chuckle against Billy’s chest, pulls back to look at the work he’s done, eyes Billy’s abused, puffy nipples with an approving look.

Steve’s hard, Billy can feel it, but it’s like it doesn’t even _register_ to Steve, like he couldn’t care less.

“Next time, I wanna get some handcuffs, or rope -- really tie you up.”

Billy’s eyes widen a little. Steve continues. “Bet you’d love that, huh? Not being able to stop me.”

A hot tremor licks up Billy’s back at the thought but Steve’s still talking so he focuses.

“You’re being _so_ good. Never thought I could get you like this, quiet and so fucking slutty.”

His words burn, Billy wants to wince, grimace like he’s offended.

Instead he’s hanging onto every syllable, desperate for the next one.

“ ‘m not a slut.” Billy says softly.

Steve pinches a nipple and it’s so unexpected that Billy makes this sound -- all desperate and out of character, Billy wishes it back immediately.

A stilted laughing sound erks out of the back of Steve’s throat, short and menacing like he’s unimpressed. “ _Slut_.” He says, pronouncing the word harshly.

Steve is scooting down his body and Billy’s stomach flips.

He wants to reach down, grab Steve’s hair, or his shoulder or _something_.

Steve disappears under the blanket, he’s partially hidden and Billy has to rely on his sense of touch.

His arms tense as he feels Steve nibble at the skin of his thigh, can’t think straight when Steve grabs his dick. He yelps when Steve swallows him down.

Billy can’t take it anymore and his arms fly down, hands smacking against the mattress and grabbing fistfuls of sheets as Steve goes to work giving Billy the blowjob of his life.

“Y-you, that’s--oh god -- ”

Steve does something with his throat, it flutters, swallows around Billy like a vice, and it’s official, Billy’s going to _die_ from getting his dick sucked.

He couldn’t think of a better way to go.

Steve doesn’t let up and Billy’s got a hand on his own head, groaning and swearing with every suck, lick, and bob.

Steve pulls away, gasping in lungfuls of air. He reappears from under the blanket and moves up to kiss Billy who’s a little annoyed that Steve _stopped_ but he kisses back, moves his spit-slick dick against Steve’s stomach and it’s not enough, it’s not _nearly_ enough but it’s so _good_ at the same time.

Shit, maybe he _was_ a slut.

Steve grabs Billy’s wrists, moves them up and pins him there, slowing his kisses until Billy’s leaning up to try and make things rougher again.

“So needy.” Steve comments.

“Fuck you, c’mon.” Billy grunts, pulls his wrists and he can almost get out of Steve’s grip but Steve’s holding on tight and it’s almost fucking alarming that he can hold Billy down.

“I want you to roll over and get up on your knees.”

Billy pauses, stills in Steve’s hands before chuckling nervously. “What? You’re not serious.” He says, disbelieving.

“I’m incredibly serious.” Steve says without an ounce of humor.

Billy opens his mouth to reply but nothing comes out. His brain is short-circuiting.

Steve lets go of his wrists and sits up, sliding away from Billy. He pulls off Billy’s pajama pants the rest of the way and waits.

His expectant stare is what makes Billy move, clumsily like he’s registering each movement a second too late. He’s not shaking, he’s full on _trembling_ and his heartbeat is steadily hiking up with each passing second. He can’t get enough air in his chest and it’s starting to hurt.

He’s panicking.

But Steve either can’t tell or doesn’t care because the second Billy’s on his knees the bed creaks, alerting Billy to the movement.

Steve puts one hand on his ass, and he’s leaning over Billy, his other hand gripping at the bottom of his neck into the knob of his spine, pushing Billy’s face down into the sheets. He squeezes, it’s a silent demand for Billy to stay put.

Billy doesn’t know if he’ll pass out first from hyperventilating or being too turned on.

Steve saddles in closer, uses his knees to knock Billy’s legs further apart.

Billy’s face _burns_ with embarrassment.

He’s never -- no ones ever --

Steve is taking his time, moves his hand from Billy’s neck and now both are on his ass, pulls his cheeks apart a little, exposing him. He makes sure his face is shoved in the sheets, sounds muffled when Steve moves one of his thumbs right over his hole, pushing in.

“F-uck.” He whines, jerks away but Steve digs his fingers in, pulling him back.

“Don't do that.” Steve mumbles hastily. “Don't pull away from me.”

Billy turns his face a little, hair in his eyes so he can’t see Steve and he gasps out,“S-shit, Steve, I -- ”

“I’ve got you.” His voice is like honey, words said in a whisper, makes Billy want to die, to bite his lip until he’s bleeding just to pull himself away from this a little. It’s too much.

He feels teeth on his ass, feels them sink into the flesh there and he squeezes at the sheets, tries desperately not to move.

Steve is pleased, purrs into the bite before letting up and then there’s a tongue laving at his rim.

“ _Oh_ , oh fuck, oh god.” He babbles under his breath, refuses to make any more of a fool of himself.

Steve doesn’t like the muted groans because he doubles down, makes his tongue pointed and teases just inside where no one’s ever touched him before.

Billy can feel the tremors wracking his body, his cock still hard and pulsing and he grinds back against Steve’s face.

Steve pulls back a little, huffs a laugh, “Knew you’d like this.”

Billy whines and reaches down for his dick.

He hears the smack before registering the pain but it comes the next second, stings his ass where Steve hit him.

“Nuh-uh.” Steve says comically. “Here, I’ll give you something to do with your hands.”

He reaches, pulls on Billy’s wrists and brings them back behind his body. Billy’s forced up onto his knees a little.

“Go on.” Steve urges, puts Billy’s hands on his own ass and Billy knows what he’s asking.

“I-I can’t.” He says, tone tinged with _too_ _much_.

“Yes, you can. You’re amazing, Billy. You _found_ me, you can do _anything_.”

Billy hesitates but Steve rubs the side of his legs, encouraging.

He pulls at his own cheeks, holds himself open, and Steve groans, long and dirty.

“There ya go. Now hold still.”

Steve puts his hands over Billy’s, urging him even further apart and goes back to licking around Billy’s hole.

Billy’s in shape so it’s not _hard_ to stay in this position but the embarrassment of it makes it hard to remain immobile. He squirms but Steve isn’t paying any mind and Billy can’t stop _moaning_.

He laves with his tongue, flat and wide, pulls back and spits and it makes Billy gasp.

Steve grips at the meat of his ass, goes back and forth between the light, teasing licks and long, deep ones.

Steve bats Billy’s hands away when he feels Billy’s thighs shaking and he collapses against the sheets, his shoulders ache from the tension of his position and they hurt to bring up and press against the mattress.

Steve gets an arm across Billy’s lower back, pulling Billy closer to him and it makes Billy keen, muscles in his legs tighten and his feet pressing against Steve on either side.

He keeps reaching under and playing with Billy’s dick, pulling and stroking maddeningly slow.

He goes at Billy till his ass is dripping with saliva, till his rim feels soft and open.

Billy turns over on his back, his dick’s left a spill of precum on his stomach and he doesn’t know what he needs, just knows he’s aching for anything.

Steve’s panting, face twisted with desire, eyes _black_.

When he positions Billy how he wants, almost doubled-over, Billy knows what’s about to happen.

Heart pounding, he feels the head of Steve’s dick against his hole and braces for the pain.

And there is pain, it’s incredible, but Steve’s continuing, pushing in and Billy’s gasping, can feel it when Steve bottoms out, can’t help but groan when Steve pulls back.

He wants to tell him to go slower, to wait a goddamn second but there’s no air left in his lungs.

Steve moves, pulls out and thrusts back in and Billy’s moaning again, his tone edged with a little bit of insanity, like he’s going out of his mind.

Billy reaches down to jerk his dick and this time Steve doesn’t stop him, it makes him growl and move faster.

Billy’s toes curl when he feels Steve hit something inside him.

It’s overwhelming and he’s going to cum, he can feel it approaching quick.

“Not yet, not yet.” Steve chants and Billy wants to ask how the hell he could possibly know that he’s close but he’s too out of his mind.

“Please, fucking, can’t -- ”

Steve grapples for Billy’s wrist, pulls his hand away from his dick and Billy shouts.

“I’m close, babe, just hold on a little longer.” Steve says, picks up the pace and fucks Billy hard.

The sound Steve makes when he cums is angelic, and Billy wants to tape it, play it back over and over.

He can feel the warmth inside him and it makes Billy hot all over.

Steve doesn’t stop fucking him, finally giving Billy what he wants and stroking his dick fast until Billy’s almost in tears, jerking his hips up and fucking Steve’s fist.

“Fuck, yes--ah! Don't. Stop. Please. Don't -- ”

And then it hits, rushes through his body and he snaps his hips as his stomach is coated.

Steve’s leaning on him hard, breathing in Billy’s air, like watching Billy come is giving him life.

Nothing matters for a few seconds, nothing in the world is more important than this.

Steve slides out of him and Billy can feel Steve’s release drip out of him.

His hips burn, his legs are shaking. Steve lays back next to Billy, hand over his chest, panting.

“Holy shit.” Steve gasps.

Billy fights to breathe, inhaling and exhaling prove difficult as his heart pounds, body thrumming in his post-bliss.

“Fuck... _fuck_ , I need....water.” He gasps between words, legs like jelly as he tries to move.

Steve digs his nails into Billy’s arms. “Stay.”

“Just...give me one minute, okay?” Billy says, patting Steve’s arm lightly.

He slides out of bed, waits till the shakiness in his knees subsides a little before stumbling towards the door. It hurts to walk, lower back twinging but he’s so thirsty he feels like he’s going to die.

He makes it to the kitchen, grabbing at the wall as his vision doubles. God, he’s fucking _obliterated_.

It’s _great_.

The phone is ringing.

He fills a glass with tap water, doesn’t answer it right away. It’s not _his_ house. But as soon as the phone stops it starts up again.

Billy moans, annoyed. He waltzes over to it, picks the phone up and brings it to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Oh, thank _god_ ,” It’s Dustin, breathy like he’s been running. “Yeah, yeah, it’s Billy.” He’s talking to someone else.

“Henderson? What? I’m busy.” Billy says before gulping from his glass.

“Billy? You need to leave right now. It’s Steve -- ”

“He’s fine? Don't tell me they want him back at the hospital. He’s doing great, better than he’s been in days -- ”

“ _No_ , Billy, shut up and listen. Will can still _see_ him there. In the Upside Down.”

Billy scoffs. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That’s _not_ Steve. You need to run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> december song is Insomnia by IAMX  
> january song is animal by neon trees
> 
> harrygroves.tumblr for the harringrove  
> valkyrie0cain.tumblr for me just being a loser and shit


	6. end of JANUARY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> READ THE AUTHORS NOTE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this shit got...dark. implied child abuse/molestation/rape. also, it's only 3k but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging for months while i figure out the next chapter, so enjoy this little interlude.

_I could corrupt you in a heartbeat_   
_You think you're so special_   
_Think you're so sweet_   
_What are you trying_   
_Don't even tempt me_   
_Soon you'll be crying_   
_And wishing you dreamt me_

* * *

 

 

Billy swirls what’s left of the water in his glass. From outside, he can hear kids outside running down the street screaming, enjoying what’s left of their Sunday. It’s the perfect day, a warm forty-ish degrees and the sun’s actually out doing its job. Billy had wanted to go for a jog in a little while.

But now--

He laughs lightly, it sounds hollow as it escapes his throat, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Dustin starts speaking, but he’s one syllable in before the line goes dead. No dial tone, just silence.

Billy puts the receiver back on the hook and stares at it.

He can feel eyes on him, the hair on his neck stands under the attention.

Slowly, he turns around.

Steve.

_ No _ . Not Steve. Something  _ else _ is in the threshold between the kitchen and living room. It had found a t-shirt, white and wrinkled, and a pair of boxers. Its hair was a mess.

Its eyes are black, pools of murky twilight that should’ve tipped Billy off from the start, when he’d stared up into them from the mattress.

But he didn’t know, he thought it was the Upside Down becoming a part of Steve, something leeching into the susceptibility, a souvenir of the trauma.

“Billy.” It says, voice tinged with something dark, an underlying echo that hadn’t been there before. But now the monster’s on display, has nothing to hide. There’s a change in the air, some sort of electric undercurrent that thrums around them, and the teenager in him fleetingly thinks  _ is this what magic feels like? _

But the thought only lasts a second because too much has happened, the terror has twisted his heart, seeped in through his cerebral, and now he knows. This isn’t the stuff of magic, this is evil, Frankenstein’s monster becoming something tangible.

Billy’s eyes are wide, unblinking, because now he can  _ see _ it.

It was the way he moved. Steve was usually a bumbling, lanky mess, too big for his limbs, always wanting to bust out of his skin--when he wasn’t trying to hide how he was feeling (which he was really bad at).

This  _ thing _ moved fluidly, like it walked on air, didn’t need to accommodate the full weight of a human body on its feet.

“What are you?” He whispers.

It chuckled, pleased with the question. “Oh that doesn’t matter, you wouldn’t understand anyways.”

“Are you a Soundlike?”

It sneers, bares its teeth menacingly, like it wants to bite into Billy and shake him. “ _ No _ , I’m not one of those idiotic, jabbering creatures. All they do it squawk what they hear, huge gossips. On the food chain, they’re barely above Weabledoobs.”

Billy doesn’t ask what that is. He absolutely does not care.

He set his glass of water on the counter, made sure to move slowly, didn’t know what would agitate the thing in front of him. “What do you want?”

It sighed, tipped Steve’s head back and looked toward the ceiling. “I want...so many things.”

“Like what?”

It grins, makes Steve’s face something horrific, a smile too big that threatens to stretch over his dimples. A  _ nightmare _ smile. “In terms of what you can do for me? Nothing. I want  _ nothing _ from you.”

His breath comes out in a shudder. “Why do you need Steve?”

The thing tsked. “You’re not stupid, Billy,  _ think _ .”

He searched his mind for an answer. “You can’t be here without a host.”

It clapped politely, condescending. “Wow, hanging out with those nerdy twerps actually helped you.”

Billy glared. “So, you took over his body?”

“No.” It says sweetly. “His  _ soul _ . His body is...elsewhere. Think of this--” It pokes at Steve’s stomach, “--as a costume.”

“Then where is he?” Billy demands.

“Oh, around.” It shrugs, a small aborted movement of his shoulders that doesn’t fit Steve’s personality.

How had he not  _ seen _ this?

Billy felt frantic, antsy with the desire to reach out and take this thing in his hands, crush it between his fingers, make it ooze and deflate.

It inhaled deeply, eyes closing.

“God, your pain is so pungent. And  _ desperate _ .” It takes a step towards him. “The vexation.” Step. “The outrage.” Step. “The  _ wrath _ .”

Billy clenches his fists. “You don't know  _ shit _ about me.”

It’s circling Billy, guiding him, making him move. “Wrong. So wrong. I know  _ everything _ . You’re laid out in front of me, a beautiful map of trauma. Poor little Billy gets beaten by his daddy--”

“Shut up.” He spits out.

“--and no mommy around to protect you? And a step-mom and  _ shithead _ sister you don't want.”

“Seriously,  _ shut _ up.”

It’s eyes flash. “Oh, god, and  _ another _ one on the  _ way _ .”

Billy stills, his breath dies in his throat.

It laughs lightly, like a chime in the wind. “ _ Oh _ , you didn’t know? Yes, your step-mother is  _ expecting _ .”

“H-How can you know that?”

“I can  _ smell _ it, Billy. A bouncing, baby boy. Maybe he’ll be the son your father always wanted.”

“ _ Fuck _ you.” Billy snarls, takes a step towards it.

It smirks. “Aww, that’s cute. Speaking of which, let’s talk about Steve.”

“No, don't -- ”

“Oh,  _ pretty _ little Steve. Did you know he tried fingering himself once while thinking about you? Couldn’t quite manage it though, got all jittery--”

Billy reaches out, grabs it’s throat, pushes it against a wall.

It laughs, full-on laughs in his face, reaches up and removes Billy’s hands easily, controlling him like a rag doll.

It reaches out and pushes Billy back a little.

“You  _ loved _ me fucking you, don't lie. And I know, Billy, I know it’s  _ so _ hard for you to admit. Because I  _ know _ it wasn’t the first time.”

Billy feels all the blood rush from his face and into his hands.  _ No _ .

“I could hear your thoughts. I could feel the way you were denying it, wanted to  _ think _ it was the first time. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? There was someone else. And you were so  _ young _ , it was hardly fair. How old were you when it first started? Twelve? Thirteen?”

It shakes his head, feigns sadness. “Mickey, right? Your dad’s best friend? Had you bent over every time you two were alone. For  _ years _ . And when you finally told dear old daddy he smacked you, the  _ first _ time. And he told you that you were disgusting, that you were having dreams about an  _ older man _ and you cried and begged him to believe you and he  _ didn’t _ , he never did.”

Billy’s shaking. “Why are you doing this?”

“Cause it’s so  _ easy _ . You humans are so weak, it’s a  _ miracle _ your species has lasted this long.”

Billy feels the tears burning the edge of his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t want to show weakness.

It tuts, “Oh no no, don't try to stifle yourself now. You’ve let me see so  _ much _ of you, Billy.”

It flies at him, this time gets a hand around  _ his _ throat and shoves Billy back into the wall. It digs Steve’s fingers into his neck, has his palm right at the pulse point, can feel the way it’s jumping under its hand.

Billy’s gasping, trying to grab it’s hand off of his throat but the thing isn’t giving an inch, has the strength to hold on, to shake his neck slightly.

He can’t help it, when the tear slips loose and trails down the side of his face.

The thing leans in close, puts the tip of his tongue where the tear is and licks a line up Billy’s face.

He feels disgusting, the wet patch on his face burns like whatever this thing is had venom in his saliva, something that tanged and tinged.

The worst part? He can still feel the cum at the cleft of his ass, dried on the inside of his thigh. The monster loosens his hold slightly.

“No, no no.” Billy begs, thrashes against him, panic setting in thickly, weaving through him and making his muscles seize up.

“You’re absolutely  _ delicious.”  _ It hisses against the side of Billy’s face.

Then something weird happens. It growls and releases Billy’s neck sharply, slides away grabbing at its forehead like it’s in pain. Billy can still feel the press of his fingers, can picture the bruises he’ll have.

“Goddamn fucking child.” It moans, leans into its palms like they’re soothing.

“The...fuck is wrong with you?” Billy breathes hard.

It straightens, shakes a hand like it’s getting rid of tingles. “That  _ boy _ . He’s a fighter, I’ll give him that. So  _ noisy _ . Can’t shut him up.”

“What?”

“Your friend, the one connected to the Upside Down? The one that can  _ see _ him? Will, is it? He’s being duped. Steve’s not  _ there _ . He just  _ thinks _ he is, and Will’s connected to his  _ mind _ . Think of it as...a simulation. He’s trapped there until they decide to let him go, which they won’t. He belongs to them now.”

“Them?” Billy pushes.

“He  _ was _ there, for a few minutes, maybe an hour and then they yanked him out, drugged him and put him where they needed, plugged him into enough fucking technology to make little Stevie think he’s still stuck there...he was barely acquainted with my world.

“He thought he was so careful, thought no one noticed him...but  _ I _ did. I got a whiff of him, unfolded him like an origami figure, felt his soul in my palm, and then I  _ took _ it before he was removed. He didn’t need it, not where he was going. Because he’ll never wake up and now I’ve assured that.”

“How did he end  _ up _ there?” Billy asked. “We found his car in the woods, smashed into a tree.”

“There are secrets in the woods, especially in your little town. Don't really know why, this area just seems to be magnetized with supernatural energy. He was drunk and  _ angry _ , smashed into the tree and when he managed to get out of his car he stumbled right into a little slit between the two worlds, right into  _ me _ .”

Billy glares, “What would happen if I killed you right now?”

It guffaws, amused at Billy’s bravery. “You can try. If you manage to knock me out before I turn you into dust, then what would you do about Steve? You’d never find him.”

“So you  _ do _ want something? Tell me where he is, you can have anything.”

It grimaces, holds its forehead again. “ _ Nothing _ .” Then it inhales sharply. “Maybe some fucking noise-cancelling headphones. Shut this kid up. God, the  _ screaming. _ ”

Billy wants to know what Steve’s saying but he doesn’t ask, knows he won’t get an answer.

He wants to  _ try _ so he does it -- reacts and jolts at the monster, tackles it to the ground and then they’re grappling for each other. Billy’s got it’s face pressed to the ground, fist shoved against his cheek and the monster is grabbing for his hands, Billy does his best to keep batting them away but it’s not long before the thing is flipping Billy over.

His head cracks against the ground, spots explode in his field of vision.

“You  _ fucking _ sneak, you got me!” It laughs maniacally, “You really did, that was  _ cute _ , but that’s the only chance you’ll get so I hope it was worth it. God I hope they kill him soon so I can have some peace.”

It’s holding Billy’s wrists down, legs straddled over his chest effectively pinning him down.

“Take me.” The words regurgitate out of him before he can think about it.

That makes the monster still, the first time he’s seemed genuinely shocked.

“Say again?” It instructs, lets go of Billy’s wrists and stands in one motion, no knees cracking, no second guessing. Flawless.

Billy uses his hands to push himself up into a sitting position. “Take. Me. You said he won’t shut up, right? That he’s fighting it? Take me, you can have my...soul. I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet. Just let Steve go.”

It cocks its head, narrows its gaze. “You’re willing to enter into an agreement with a demi-god?”

“If it means letting him go.” Billy nods, noting the classification.

The laugh that bubbles out of its throat is boisterous, showy in a way Steve isn’t. Something he’ll never be able to get out of the back of his head.

“Jesus Christ, kid, you’re what, like eighteen? Leave town, find a new piece of ass,  _ get over him _ .”

Billy fixes his eyes on the ground. “Steve’s...more important than me.”

“Wow.” It elongates the word. “So emo.”

He gets to his feet, his back aches from the impact. “Just  _ do _ it. Fucking take me.”

“Why would I want  _ you _ ?” It asks curiously.

“Steve’s...he’s not...look--” Billy searches his mind. “--think of it like this. Whether or not you have power, Steve’s weak. I’m...stronger, more intimidating. People won’t come near you if you look like me.”

The thing grins, flicks its tongue out and licks over its lips. Like Billy does. It makes his stomach flip. “But why would I bother doing that when so  _ many _ people care so much about this particular person?”

“Please.” Billy begs, hates using the word.

It smiles, bemused, quiet for a moment like it’s considering. “How bout we talk about this?” It walks away, heads into the dining room, motioning Billy to follow, humming a tune as it goes like this is a normal day, like nothing’s wrong in its perfect little world. “Find me a pen, will you?” It shouts back.

Billy looks around the kitchen, finds a notepad and pencil in one of the drawers. He ponders running away, but doesn’t trust that he’d make it far. The thing has made it obvious that it knows...everything, anything it wants to know.

He scribbles something on the top sheet of paper without letting himself think about it and tears it off, drops it on the counter, joins the demi-god in the dining room.

Once he’s seated the demi-god puts its feet up on the table and leans back in the chair.

“Alright, let’s figure this out…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Contract between Billy Hargrove and the Asshole

Rule 1: Steve and the kids will not be harmed.

Rule 2:  _ No _ one in Hawkins will be harmed.

Rule 3: Once it has taken over Billy’s soul and appearance it must leave town immediately.

Rule 4: Steve’s location must be left with Billy’s body so someone can find him.

Rule 5: Once taken over, Billy may not fight the process, at all.

 

“Anything else?” Billy spits out.

The demi-god considers this, twiddles its thumbs. “Okay, how about this. For your  _ pathetic _ sacrifice, I’ll give you an option. You can either enter a simulation akin to where Steve is, stumbling around the Upside Down for the rest of eternity  _ or _ I’ll give you your own, quaint space where you can watch what’s happening.”

Billy thinks it over. “And what exactly would be happening?”

It sighs. “Hmm, death. Destruction. Maybe a cross-country road trip, always wanted to see Earth.”

“Harder to get here than I’d expect for a demi-god. Not a lot of camaraderie between nightmare monsters?”

“No, not so much.” It replies airily.

“Hmm, funny.” Billy says thickly.

The demi-god smiles thinly. “Why don't you just come with me, Billy? Forgo the whiny, confused boy, take off in the middle of the day with nothing but the shirt on your back. We can do anything we want, me with my formidable powers and you with your--” He gestures vaguely, “--great hair.”

Billy gives him an incorrigible look.

“Think I’ll pass.”

“Are you sure? You get access to Steve’s body without any of the  _ nyah nyah nyah _ .” He taps his thumb and fingers together, indicates nagging.

“Let’s just fucking get on with it.”

The demi-god rolls its eyes, signs lavishly at the bottom.

Billy snatches the paper, signs as well.

The paper lights up, flames flicker around the edges and the paper is diminished, doesn’t leave behind ash or any sort of smell.

“And that’s that. You belong to me.”

Billy pushes the pad towards it. “You need to leave Steve’s location.”

“Yes, yes, I was  _ there _ when we created the rules.”

It scribbles something, passes it back.

_ Center for Blood Donation and Medical Research. _

Billy doesn’t react.

“You don't seem too surprised.” It says, eyebrows up.

“I’m not. Of course that’s where he is.”

“Yeah, right under your noses the whole time. Too bad none of you thought to look there.”

“So I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark and guess they don't actually take blood?”

“Very good, Billy. It’s a front. About a year ago these people took over a laboratory, and then some not very nice things happened and a bunch of people got killed, a bunch of shit got covered up, so they all left in their vans with their tails between their legs.

“But people like that don't stay gone long. Didn’t take them six months to load back up and come out here, but this time they wanted to play it safe, decided to create a cover, something that wouldn’t cause anyone to look twice at them.”

“Clever.” Billy bites out.

“Mmm,” it nods. “I suppose. If this place wasn’t throwing off so much energy they probably wouldn’t bother coming back. Unfortunately for you, it’s a pit of the paranormal, a destination for the touring things that go bump in the night.

“Now, do you have anymore questions before you are mine forever?” It smiles another demon smile.

“No.” He says quietly.

“I have one.” It says, mischief in its eyes. The demon slides closer, lifting it’s ass out of the chair to get his face real close to Billy’s. “Wanna go for round two?”

Billy shoves it back, it lets him and cackles in Billy’s face. His breath smells like ash.

“Oh, forgive me Billy. You’re just delightful, I couldn’t resist.”

“You’re fucking sick.” Billy growls.

It looks tired suddenly, like it’s heard that before, over and over. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. Now then, to business.”

They both stand and Billy doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, maybe a clap of thunder to signify the terror of the moment, but nothing comes--since it’s the middle of the goddamn day--and he waits.

The demi-god shuts its eyes, looks like it’s concentrating and when they slide open, they’re golden, no iris, just gold light.

“Goodbye, Billy.” It says with a gravel tone, reaches out its hand.

Billy takes it gingerly.

Its fingers tighten around Billy’s and then--

Oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song is Corrupt You by Depeche Mode.
> 
> By the by, every comment y'all leave makes my heart sing. I'm so grateful for the feedback I've gotten on this. Only a couple more chapters before it's wrapped. It has been and will continue to be a joy.


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